Broken Bonds
by Wildfire707
Summary: Germany is torn between justice and mercy. His decision will change the life of a innocent young man. both choices have dangerous consequences. Not everything is as it seems. Friends betray each other, enemies are misunderstood, and promises are broken. In the end, no one can be trusted. (**Long story, suggested pairings**)
1. Prolouge

**So this is my first completed work, so granted it's not the best. Even though I didn't much care for it, I had a lot of friends that were interested, so I figured I'd put it up. I am posting it unaltered from the final version I finished last year, so it will probably sound really cheesy and rough. **

**Anyway, enjoy. I hope you like it and stick with it 'till the end.**

**Rated T for violence. No language or adult themes. **

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"Hurry up."  
"Just stop for a second!"  
"We're in a hurry, they will be leaving soon."  
"Why are we doing this?"  
"You know why. You shouldn't have to ask."  
"Because he told us to? Are you willing to kill a man just because he said so? You have to know that this is wrong! He's innocent!"  
"I'm doing my job. If you have doubts, then you can leave."  
"Please don't. I don't want to–"  
"Are you suggesting that I betray my king?"  
"No! Of course not! There has to be another way!"  
"There's not. You know what he'll do to us if we don't kill him. It's him or us. You didn't have to come, I should have left you back home. If you're scared, go back. I'll be there soon."  
"Don't leave! It's not me I'm worried about!"  
"You don't have to worry about me."  
"Yes I do! Because you don't care anymore!"  
"Go home."  
"What?"  
"You heard me! Go home! If you can't handle this then just get out of my way!"  
"What's wrong with you? You've never talked like that before. And why don't you smile any more? You used to be so kind..."  
"Times have changed."  
"No, wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."  
"Yes you did. I'm the one that should be sorry. Please, just go home. I don't want them to find you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you come, you don't belong here. Please understand, I'm not mad at you. I just need you to go home. I'm doing this on my own."  
"I can't just leave! What if something happens to you?"  
"If I''m not back by morning, then go back and get the others."  
"Okay. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"What happened to him? He's never acted like this. I can't let him go alone, that German is going to kill him."

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**Sorry if it's confusing, but at this point the reader's not supposed to know who these two characters are and it doesn't really make sence until later. It's just to get you started. So please check out the next chapter before you shut me down. : )**


	2. Chapter 1: Reunited

In the quiet town of London, thick sheets of rain fell upon darkened streets. Everyone was indoors, away from the cold and enjoying a small fire in a stone hearth. In one house, however, a large group of people gathered in celebration for the upcoming Christmas season.  
Every person present was a representative for a major country. The representatives referred to each other by the names of their countries; their real names were never used.  
Despite their many differences and augments, they decided to attempt to host a Christmas party. Hopefully, unlike the unproductive and stressful world conference, it would go smoothly. America, the self-proclaimed leader, declared that they should hold the party in England, and somehow managed to make Japan agree to pay for it.  
The representatives peacefully mingled, talking about current affairs or discussing politics, but one person stood out from above the rest. A muscular man stood in a strict military stance in a corner of the room, his pale blue eyes scrutinized every person present as he brushed back his short, platinum blonde hair. He wore a stiff, freshly ironed, olive green army jacket with matching pants and tall black boots. A small pistol hung hidden on his belt, and his pockets were filled with random survival supplies such as fishing line, mirrors, and matches.  
"Hey Germany!" A small, redheaded, young man in bright clothes ran towards the man, his arms held out in greeting.  
Germany held out his open palm to stop the small man from hugging him. "Greetings Italy. You seem to be enjoying yourself."  
"Yeah! The people here are so nice. It's fun to be hanging out with all of our old friends!"  
"Ja, I suppose so." Germany was never one to enjoy social gatherings, but since no one tried to kill him yet, then perhaps it would be acceptable to refer to them as friends.  
Italy quickly got bored and grabbed Germany's arm, ignoring the larger man's protests as he dragged him through the crowd.  
Relaxing music echoed gently around the curved ceiling which was decorated with red and green streamers. The off-white walls gave the vast room a nostalgic, yet elegant feel, The Christmas decorations; silver strings of metal snowflakes, blue ribbons and glistening angels, added to the effect.  
Germany pulled Italy to a stop so he could admire the large Christmas tree in the far corner, his narrow eyes scanning every ornament accenting the rich green tree. Silver tinsel hung from the full branches, glimmering brightly in the light of the glass chandeliers and complimenting the extravagantly colored orbs.  
"This must have cost a lot," Switzerland muttered beside Germany, craning his neck to look at the top of the tree. He was known as the trigger-happy-pacifist because of his strict neutrality policy during war time which involved shooting down any aircraft that entered his airspace. Even though he seemed to hate all of the other countries, he was kind to Liechtenstein; his little sister who never left his side.  
"Is that why our tree is always so small?" Liechtenstein asked innocently, still looking at the tree.  
"I could get a big tree, if I wanted to. But I just like the look of the small ones."  
"Germany, look at that!" Italy said in his joyful, high pitched voice, jumping up and down and excitedly pointing over at the food table. Even though the Italian was embarrassing, immature, and completely unable to control himself, Germany couldn't help but be amused. Luckily, he knew the perfect way to calm him down.  
With a gloved hand, Germany snatched the long, curly strand of red hair that stuck out on the left side of Italy's head. Italy instantly drooped, letting out a little sigh of surrender.  
"Now calm down and tell me what you're talking about." Germany said, finally letting go of the hair, enabling Italy to return to his hyperactive state.  
"The cake! Look at it, it's so festive."  
"It's pink?"  
"Yes sir-ee!" America suddenly shouted beside Germany's ear. "I made it myself. Pretty cool huh?" America was one of the youngest countries, with light brown hair and thin glasses over vivid blue eyes. He usually wore a brown bomber jacket, but today he was in a modern blue tuxedo.  
"Uh, yeah," Germany replied hesitantly.  
"I think it's magnifico!" Italy exclaimed, raising his hand to get America's attention.  
"Gee, thanks man! I spent hours on that. It even glows in the dark!"  
"Really?" Italy asked in amazement. "Germany, can I try it?"  
"Er, no. Maybe later." Germany pulled Italy away from the toxic cake and left America to find someone else to brag about his creation to. As he was looking back to make sure America didn't follow them, he almost ran into Britain.  
The Englishman was slender, fairly short and wore sophisticated, elaborate dress clothes. He had rugged blonde hair that covered his thick eyebrows and large, deep green eyes. His childlike face made him seem young although he was one of the oldest of the European countries.  
"Oi, hey there chap. Wanna try one?" Britain asked politely, holding out a tray of pastries.  
Germany eyed them suspiciously. If Britain was offering him food, it was most likely old and stale or covered in vinegar. The last thing he ate of the Englishman's was so rancid the taste stayed in his mouth for weeks. That convinced him to stick with liver wurst and never to accept food from Britain.  
"Did you make them yourself?" Germany asked, trying to sound interested instead of suspicious.  
Britain's smile instantly faded, making Germany think that he offended him somehow.  
"Those are Éclairs. France banned him from kitchen. Lucky for us." China stood behind Britain and was chuckling softly into his long sleeve. The dominating Chinamen stood proudly behind Britain, his long black hair hanging over his shoulder in a ponytail. China prided himself on being the oldest of all the countries and considered himself the wisest, although few would agree.  
"It's not my fault the bloody curtain caught on fire! Who's the berk that put a curtain by the oven anyway?" Britain complained.  
"That not reason why you were banned from kitchen," China said, sympathetically patting Britain on the shoulder. Britain, still not catching on, brushed China's hand off his shoulder with an annoyed look.  
"Uh, I think I will have one," Germany stated, hesitantly taking one of the small pastries from the plate.  
"Cheerio." Britain's smile returned and he quickly walked away, leaving China shaking his head in frustration. Germany was just about to nibble on the pastry when a leather clad hand snatched it away.  
"Not bad, but a little too sweet if you ask me. I prefer Berliner," an obnoxious voice shouted beside Germany's ear.  
Germany glared at his older brother, Prussia. He glanced over his white hair which was dangled and unbrushed like wrinkled sheets over his pale forehead. His eyes had no pigments, so the veins were visible behind his cornea; making his eyes red and quite threatening at times.  
Prussia stood out from everyone, but it wasn't just because of his appearance. He was aggressive, very arrogant, and always wanted to be the center of attention.  
Germany always spoiled him as if he was the younger brother. No matter how annoying he got, Germany always kept calm and let him have his way, which may have been why Prussia was so self centered.  
"Why does the music sound so sad?" Italy said abruptly.  
Germany looked over to see Austria playing the large, black piano in the far corner. The Austrian had his eyes closed and slowly moved back and forth with the music, his stylized brown hair waving gently.  
"Ya, you're right. His music does sound fairly melancholy," Germany responded.  
"Do you think he's upset about something?" Prussia asked, his mouth still stuffed with the stolen Eclair.  
"Most likely, but I have no idea why," Germany answered pragmatically. Austria's music always reflected his mood. If you asked him to play a song twice it would always end up different; that is, if the selfish aristocrat actually agreed to play for you.  
They all listened to the depressing music for a few moments when eventually Italy drifted away and began chatting with the Asian girls, Taiwan and Vietnam. The girls giggled at the Italian's fast speech and the way he used his hands expressively when he talked. Italy clasped one of the girl's hands excitedly as he continued talking.  
"I find that improper," Germany looked over and spotted his old friend Japan, quietly ridiculing the young Italian. As always, he wore a white naval uniform with gold embroidering on the cuffs and collar.  
Italy turned and waved to him, "Hey Japan, come meet my new friends!"  
"I'll just stay over here," Japan said respectfully.  
"Brother, I'm bored," Prussia whined, picking his teeth with his fingernail. He leaned against Germany, but luckily Prussia was smaller then him, so Germany easily counter balanced by taking a wider stance.  
"Why don't you find someone to talk to?"  
"I don't want to talk to any of these losers," Prussia pouted.  
"We're staying. I told Britain we would help clean up afterward."  
"What? You can't be serious! This smell of wine is making my throat ache. Don't you have any beer or something?"  
"No. Go ask Russia if he will share his vodka."  
"I'd rather die," Prussia whined.  
"Then you'll have to wait." Germany gently pushed Prussia away.  
"This sucks."  
Germany looked at his older brother who was standing with his arms folded and an annoyed look on his face. As he looked down at Prussia, Germany suddenly felt guilty for making him stay after the party.  
"Fine. Here, take this." Germany held out a small flask of whiskey. "But save some for me."  
"Ah! Wonderful. I'll try to save some, but I won't guarantee it." Prussia tipped the flask up and his face instantly relaxed. "Much better," he muttered.  
"Don't you dare pass out and leave me to clean the place. And if you do I will leave you here. Do you understand?"  
"Hey, no worries. You know I can handle myself. It'll take at least five of these to even get me drowsy."  
"Yeah," Germany said truthfully, "you're probably right." Prussia had a very high alcohol tolerance, but that wasn't always a good thing.


	3. Chapter 2: Thunder

**Something when wrong with the titles of the first two chapters, and the site won't let me change them for some reason. This is the real chapter 2. There was supposed to be a prologue, but it didn't get titled that way. So yeah, sorry for the confusion. :P Enjoy!**

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Germany watched as Prussia ran though the light rain, jumping in every puddle he could possibly find in the dark street. He was laughing as loud as he could and would randomly shout at passing streetlights.  
"I really wish that you didn't drink all that wine," Germany groaned.  
"That stuff doesn't taste half bad after a bolt of whisky!"  
Germany glared at the drunkard as he spun around the light pole and ran into a garbage can, frightening a cat that was inside.  
"Sorry pussy," he called after it. "I guess my awesomeness is quite intimidating!"  
Germany slicked back his hair for the third time that evening. He really hated the rain; during Christmas time it should be snowing, but it hardly ever got cold enough for snow to fall in England. He paused for a moment to look in a darkened store window as Prussia merrily danced around the corner.  
Germany stood admiring the long coats and fancy hats that hung in the window. They ranged in colors from blue to beige, some expensive and lavish, others simple and elegant. The multiple pieces of the exotic clothes fit together perfectly, no wonder why Britain considered himself a stunning gentleman.  
Pulling his eyes away from the clothes, Germany continued after Prussia. He listened to the rain hitting the shingles and sliding through the gutters. Suddenly there was a loud thunderclap followed by a soft thud. After the explosion of sound, Germany realized that he couldn't hear Prussia any longer.  
"Brother?" Germany called out. His only reply was the continuing rain. He crept around the corner, expecting Prussia to leap out at him, but instead he saw his brother passed out on the sidewalk at the opening of an alleyway.  
Germany sighed in frustration. He would have to carry Prussia the rest of the way; easier said than done. But as he got closer, he could see that the cobblestones were stained darker where Prussia collapsed. He took off one of his gloves and stooped down, wiping his fingers on the wet surface and holding it up to the light of the street lamp.  
The rain quickly washed the thick blood off his fingers.  
Germany ripped his gun from it's holster and swiftly moved against the wall. He silently slid towards the alleyway where Prussia lay, bolting around the corner and pointing his gun down the vacant alley.  
Germany slowly lowered his pistol, anger and confusion welling up inside his chest.  
Returning his gun to his holster, Germany knelt down beside Prussia.  
Prussia's sturdy black pistol was discarded beside him. Even drunk he can still draw his weapon quickly, Germany thought.  
Germany parted his shirt and ran his fingers over his muscled chest to find the bullet hole. He let the rain wash away the blood and gently wiped the remainder off Prussia's pale skin, revealing a small hole just below his ribs.  
Germany gently lifted Prussia's silver hair from the bloody water in the gutter, and pulled his head into his lap, gently cradling him. He held his hand in front of his brother's mouth. Only a slight wisp of air brushed his fingertips. Germany brought his hand down to Prussia's chest and quickly placed pressure on the wound to keep it from bleeding.  
"Hold on Prussia. It's going to be okay." Germany ripped off a piece of his own uniform and placed it over the bullet hole, securing it tighter with his belt.  
Germany gently tapped the side of his face. "Prussia, can you hear me?"  
Prussia gave no response. Germany knew that until he woke up he wouldn't know who had shot him. That meant that he couldn't trust anyone. He would have to solve this problem on his own.


	4. Chapter 3: Assassins

Germany violently kicked open the door of an abandoned house with Prussia held tightly in his arms. He struggled to catch his breath as he flipped on the light switch with his elbow. A simple bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room with a dim, yellow glow. Water drizzled from multiple holes in the roof, causing the whole room to be damp and moldy. An unsteady table was set between the ragged couch and the tiny kitchen. It looked like it was an place where homeless people had come to escape the rain.  
The house seemed uninhabitable– the smell, putrid and sour, the wood rotted away by termites– but Germany didn't have any other choice. He carefully placed Prussia on the table then quickly brushed the empty cans off the rough surface.  
Prussia groaned in agony as Germany adjusted his position on the table. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breathing was ragged and his skin even whiter than usual.  
Ripping the cupboards open, Germany shuffled through the empty bottles until he found one that was still full of whiskey. He hastily took a drink to calm his nerves. He washed his hands under the rusty faucet and sanitized them with the whiskey. He took off his jacket, ripped off another piece and moistened it. He returned to Prussia and removed the belt and soddened cloth.  
The bullet had skimmed Prussia's lowest rib and missed the lung but was still lodged in the surrounding muscle.  
"Prussia, are you awake?"  
"Regrettably," he wheezed.  
Germany took the magazine out of his pistol and patiently held it in front of Prussia's face. "Here, bite down on this."  
Prussia obeyed, clasping the magazine securely in his teeth.  
Taking a deep breath, Germany dug his fingers into his brother's abdomen.  
Prussia quietly whimpered as Germany drilled his fingers in farther, but the whimper soon turned into a muted scream of agony.  
"Almost there…got it!" Successfully pulling the bullet out, Germany tossed the bloody pellet away. He removed the magazine from Prussia's mouth then held the whisky bottle to his lips. "Drink," he said softly.  
Prussia took a few swallows then began coughing weekly, a drop of the brown liquid leaking out of the corner of his mouth.  
Hastily putting the bottle down, Germany leaned Prussia's head back, enabling him to breath better. He took the wet cloth and gently pressed it against the wound. Prussia groaned as Germany tightened the belt again around the base of his ribs.  
"Who shot you?" Germany asked.  
"Blonde," Prussia groaned.  
"What else?" Germany, prodded, but Prussia had passed out again.  
Germany gingerly picked him up and laid him on the shabby, tattered couch. He went to the closet and returned with a moth eaten wool blanket, placing it over his shivering brother. It was freezing in the small house, and Germany could see his breath as he vigorously rubbed his arms, attempting to warm himself.  
Ambling to the sink, Germany placed his bloody jacket in the cold water, scrubbing it together repeatedly to get the stains out. He glanced out the window to watch the rain and looked at his reflection.  
Germany turned off the water and leaned against the counter, studying his frightened face in the window. Did that face really belong to him? He couldn't recall ever seeing himself look that frazzled. He took a deep breath and tried to force his face back into his usual scowl, but the fear still shone in his eyes. A flicker of movement reflected off the glass, drawing his attention.  
Germany quickly dropped to his knees an instant before a bullet lodged in the cabinet above his head. He turned around and saw a tall, intimidating man wearing a dark blue naval uniform. He had thin black glasses and was holding a silver gun. If he had to describe the man's face in one word, it would be 'terrifying,' and that still didn't do it justice. His thin lips where formed into a permanent scowl that matched his arching eyebrows and villainous eyes. The thing that caught Germany's attention was the man's ruffled, blonde hair.  
Germany instinctively brought a hand to his belt, only to find that his gun was missing. He had left it on the table. He silently scolded himself for being so careless. He had left his only weapon unguarded and his back exposed.  
Germany was ripped from his thoughts as the man cocked the hammer back, aiming it between his eyes. He kicked the man's feet out from under him and quickly scrambled to his knees as the man slammed onto the hard wood floor. He stomped on the man's hand, sending his gun flying under the sink. He then reached down and grabbed the man's collar fiercely.  
Before Germany could hit him, he swung his arm around, the back of his fist hitting against Germany's jaw. Taking his other hand, he brought his elbow down on Germany's wrist, releasing the grip on his collar.  
The man slid back and waited for Germany to recover from the brief attack, staying silent and glaring at him in concentration. His harsh eyes never wavered over his thin glasses.  
Germany swung at the man's face, but he effortlessly avoided the blow by leaning backwards then kicked Germany in the gut. The kick wasn't very strong, but the man twisted his heel, pressing deep into his sternum.  
Germany buckled over but quickly swung his leg around and hit the intruder with a reverse roundhouse kick to the face. The man spun to the ground and looked back up through his cracked lens.  
Germany ran forward to attack him again but the man expertly put his hands to the ground and lunged upwards, knocking Germany back again with a fierce, two-legged kick. The man used his own momentum to launch his feet over his head, quickly flipping backwards and landing perfectly.  
Germany quickly recovered and launched forward, ramming his shoulder into the man's collar bone and sending them both crashing through the thin wall into the back bedroom. Germany landed with all his weight on top of the lean man, knocking the air out of his lungs.  
The man tried to slip away, but a swift elbow to the face knocked him unconscious.  
Meanwhile, a younger man with silky, light colored hair, came in through the back door and approached Prussia with a gun held in front of his thin frame. He stealthily walked to the couch where Prussia was currently resting, and held the gun a few inches from the albino's forehead.  
The young man closed his eyes tightly and gently started to pull the trigger. He stopped when he heard the click of a loaded chamber. The young man opened his eyes, surprised to see Prussia holding a gun to his heart. The wounded man's red eyes narrowed in anger as his finger tensed.  
The young man fell on his knees, small pools of tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Go ahead," he muttered in a small voice. "If you don't kill me, Mr. Denmark will when I get back."  
Prussia cringed at the familiar name, but kept the gun level. His finger danced on the trigger, gently brushing the smooth surface, pulling it back then slowly releasing it. After a few more moments, he let his hand fall and slipped his arm back under the covers.  
There was a loud clanging in the back as Germany duct-taped the tall man. He shoved the man's face to the ground and tightly wrapped his hands in the tape, making sure to go between his wrists as well. Then he grabbed the man's hair, ripped his head up from the ground and wrapped the tape around it, effectively covering his mouth.  
Germany forcefully tossed him into the bedroom closet, slammed the door and engaged the lock. He quickly ran into the other room to see the other blonde, this one small and childlike, standing over Prussia.  
Rolling across the floor, Germany grabbed man's discarded gun and raised the thin barrel to the level of the child's eyes.  
"Germany, wait," Prussia said quietly.  
The blonde looked up and fixed Germany with a sorrowful stare. Germany kept the gun steady, but took his finger off the trigger.  
"Please let me explain," the blonde said sheepishly. "We were sent here by Mr. Denmark, but I think we can help you."  
Germany was unconvinced. "Give me one reason not to kill you and your creepy friend."  
"Please sir, you have to understand. We were forced to come here, Mr. Denmark would have done something awful to us if we didn't agree to kill you two. Ask Mr. Sweden, he will tell you everything! You have to trust me, we're willing to help."  
"Yes, I can see that," Germany said sarcastically. "So your friend is Sweden, ja? Then who are you?"  
"I'm Finland," he said with a cheery smile.  
How can he be so happy with a gun to his head? Germany wondered. "Show me your weapon," he demanded, still crouched on the floor.  
"It's on the floor," Finland said, glancing down.  
"Kick it to the side."  
Finland obeyed and Germany glanced over as it spun across the floor. It looked much like Sweden's gun; slanted handle, back-set firing mechanism, and a thin barrel.  
Germany got to his feet and removed the cartridge from Sweden's gun, and placed it on the table. He then retrieved Finland's gun and did the same. If it came to a fight, Germany felt certain that he could handle Finland without a gun and didn't want the young man to get a hold of a loaded weapon.  
"So, what makes you think we need your help?" Germany asked as he put the magazines in his pocket.  
"Mr. Denmark wants control of northern Europe, he already has many supporters. He really wants you two dead, and says that you are threatening his plan. Please sir, I don't know much, but Mr. Sweden does. He can tell you more; who's supporting Denmark and what their plans are."  
"Hmm." Germany was unsure that he wanted that man loose. He could handle Finland, who seemed small and untrained, but Sweden was about his size and could put up a good fight.  
"Please let me talk to him, he'll listen to me."  
Slumping his shoulders, Germany let out a sigh of exasperation. "Prussia, what do you think?"  
"I say go ahead," Prussia answered from his slothful position on the couch. "I think we can take on these losers."  
"That's not a very nice thing to say," Finland said, his smile disappearing.  
"If they act up, I'll be the one that has to handle it," Germany complained. "Do you still have your gun?"  
"I always have my gun, unlike you."  
Germany rolled his eyes as he left them and returned to the bedroom. He unlocked the closet door to find that Sweden had brought his hands in front of him and was attempting to break the tape with his foot.  
Sweden glared up at him, breathing heavily through his nostrils.  
Germany grabbed his bound wrists and hauled him out of the closet. "Come on, I have some questions for you." Before he got halfway across the room, Sweden's boot slammed into the back of his head. With a grunt of surprise, Germany dropped Sweden to the ground and heard something snap as the Swedish man's shoulder hit the radiator.  
Looking down at Sweden, Germany noticed that his face was drenched in sweat and he could almost hear a whimper as he expelled air from his lungs.  
Seeing Sweden curled up in pain, Germany almost pitied the somber man. When Sweden glared up at him, Germany felt nothing but admiration. Although he had already lost, Sweden was still fighting back; trying to rip the tape off by rubbing his wrists on the radiator.  
"Mr. Sweden, it's okay!" Finland shouted, running to Sweden's side. "They're going to help us."  
Sweden heaved himself to his knees and pushed Finland behind him, protecting him from Germany.  
"Mr. Germany is not going to hurt us, he really is a nice person," FInland assured him.  
Sweden's eyes softened as he looked back at Finland, but he looked regretful as he slowly shook his head.  
"Please, you can't do this on your own. They're going to help us gain independence, right Mr. Germany?"  
Germany wasn't aware that he agreed to this, but after looking at Finland's hopeful eyes, he slowly nodded his head.  
"See? we have friends now." Finland smiled and his eyes lit up in joy as he gently grabbed Sweden's arm. Sweden didn't share his excitement; he was still glowering at Germany.  
Sweden looked up at Germany suspiciously, after a few moments he finally resigned and held his hands out to him.  
Slowly crouching down, Germany moved his hands steadily forward, as if he was offering food to an abandoned mongrel. Germany struggled to get the bindings off but Sweden's efforts to free himself had compressed the tape even tighter around his wrists, digging into the bare skin.  
Abandoning the attempt, Germany stood back and gazed down at Sweden. "Finland, ask Prussia if he has a knife," he told the young man.  
Finland turned and quickly left, but not before looking back encouragingly at Sweden.  
Sweden studied Germany then slowly extended his leg. Germany looked at him in confusion until he saw a slight bulge in the base of his knee-high, brown boot.  
Cautiously reaching forward, Germany unzipped the boot, revealing a small switch blade. He thought that it was strange that Sweden hadn't used it during their fight, but didn't think much of it.  
Germany inquisitively flipped open the blade and Sweden slowly extended his hands again. Germany was very gradual in his movements so he didn't startle Sweden. Not that he looked flighty, but after Sweden's previous outburst he didn't want to take any chances.  
After cutting the tape, Germany slowly removed it, leaving blazing red marks on both of Sweden's wrists.  
Why couldn't you just cooperate? Then you wouldn't have gotten so injured, Germany thought silently as he watched Sweden delicately cradle his wounded arm. He then gently grabbed the silver tape covering Sweden's mouth.  
At this point the Swedish man tensed and briefly closed his eyes.  
Germany gently pressed the blade against the slick tape, being extra careful not to break the skin. He cut the tape vertically behind Sweden's ear, then set the knife aside and gently unwrapped the tape, gingerly pulling it away from Sweden's ragged, blonde hair.  
Sitting back, Germany realized that he had been holding his breath the whole time. He returned Sweden's knife, then stood up and offered his hand to Sweden.  
Sweden reluctantly grasped it.  
Germany helped him to his feet and gave Sweden a small smile of encouragement. Sweden looked perplexed and did not return the favor.  
Awkward.  
They returned to the room to find Prussia and Finland conversing on the couch. Prussia gave Sweden a suspicious glance, as if he knew him from somewhere, but quickly glanced away.  
"Oh, I see you got it off. Uh, he didn't have a knife," Finland said uncomfortably.  
"You didn't?" Germany asked his brother.  
"No, I left it in my bag back at the motel. We'll have to get it later, I like that knife," Prussia whined.  
"We have more important things to worry about," Germany said forcefully. "Finland said you knew more about this Denmark," he said, turning to Sweden.  
"Ja, I do," Sweden said slowly, as if he didn't know how to speak English very well. His voice was very deep and heavily accented, making him hard to understand. He quietly went to the coffee table and placed a tattered map on the stained surface.  
"Dis is Denmark," Sweden pointed to a country above France and between England and Russia. "Denmark is de 'ead of de Un'on of Kalmar. It was 'n old alliance that I br'ke off years 'go, but Denmark's king 'as re'nited the Nordics 'nd he started callin' us the Union of Kalmar 'gain. It's un'fficial, but it is quite sim'lar ta the old union. It's supp'sed ta unite the countries of Norde'rn Europe, but it j'st gives Denmark control ov'r de small'r ones. H'e blocks trade, enforces strict laws an' controls our gov'ment."  
"It's true," Finland interrupted. "He doesn't let us do anything. Just treats us like slaves."  
"Ja. De point 's dat Denmark wants ta take ov'r all of western Europe. 'e alre'dy 'as control of th'se countries 'ere, plus Iceland and Gre'nland." Sweden ran his hand over all the countries surrounding the Baltic sea. "But 'is rule doesn't end there, 'e 'as influ'nce in many oth'r countries, but Norway and Iceland 're 'is top supp'rters."  
"And where do you fit into all this?" Prussia asked loudly as Germany began pacing behind the couch.  
Sweden's eyes narrowed and he looked at the floor. "I was 'is right 'and man," he said with disgust.  
Prussia's distrustful glare hardened.  
"But I'm sick of followin' 'is orders. If yah are willin' to fight ag'nst Denmark, den I will follow yah every step of de way. If not, den I will stop 'im myself." He looked at Germany and Prussia both in turn.  
"Well, seeing as we're both on his death list, we have no other choice," Germany stated.  
"Fine," Prussia said unenthusiastically.  
Germany stopped his pacing and looked at Sweden, who was clutching his shoulder. "Something wrong?" he asked.  
"No, nothin'." Sweden let go of his shoulder and straightened up, unwilling to show weakness, but his shoulder remained cocked forward, horribly dislocated.  
"Here, let me help."  
Sweden watched as Germany walked around the couch. He shied away from Germany's touch but eventually succumbed, allowing Germany to inspect his shoulder even though his fierce glare remained trained on him.  
Finland leaned forward and tentatively placed his hand on Sweden's knee. Sweden gave no response.  
Germany gently felt how much it was shifted. The shoulder blade suck out at an odd angle and the bone was knocked out of it socket completely, causing his arm to hang in front of his chest. The bone was twisted so Germany pulled his elbow back to get it in the right position. He tightened his grip and placed his other hand on Sweden's spine.  
Germany abruptly ripped the shoulder up and back, creating a loud snap and Sweden let out a muted yelp of pain. He instinctively grabbed Finland's hand, sweat pouring down his face.  
Finland comfortingly grabbed Sweden's hand, his other hand was clutching Prussia's blanket. When Prussia noticed, he snatched it back and Finland quickly apologized.  
Sweden grabbed the whisky bottle and downed a quarter of it. Prussia took his glare away from Finland and turned it towards Sweden.  
"Tack så mycket," Sweden muttered, returning the bottle to the table.  
"That means, thank you," Finland translated.  
"Uh, you're welcome," Germany said.  
"So do you guys have a plan on how to stop this Denmark guy?" Prussia asked impatiently.  
The other three looked at each other and Germany shrugged his shoulders. "All I know is that we can't do anything until we get that wound taken care of."  
"Do yah mind 'f I take en look?" Sweden asked.  
"Yes! I mind!" Prussia spat. "Since you're the one that shot me!"  
"He shot you?" Germany asked harshly, stepping closer.  
"I saw blonde hair, and that's good enough for me."  
Sweden stayed still as Prussia scooted further away. Germany slowly backed up to the table where he left the guns. The room was deathly silent, and the tension rose even higher.  
"Mr. Sweden didn't do it!" Finland suddenly cried. "I–I did. I'm sorry… I wasn't going to shoot, but I panicked. Please forgive me, I really didn't mean to." All eyes turned towards him.  
"It doesn't matt'r an'more," Sweden said, drawing the attention away from Finland. "We wanna 'elp."  
Nodding, Prussia reluctantly pushed the blanket off, which Finland quickly wrapped around himself. Sweden came forward and unclipped the belt, pulling the cloth away. "I 'ssume yah took de bullet out?"  
"Yes," Germany answered.  
"Utmärkt. De organs 're unharmed, so now de probl'm is de bleedin'" The awkward silence returned as Sweden continued cleaning the wound. "Denmark w'll be on g'ard when we don't c'me b'ck," he said quietly. "Yah two need ta be more car'ful."  
"We need supplies," Germany remarked. "All of our stuff is back at the hotel."  
"Yah kan't go b'ck," Sweden stated, rewrapping Prussia's wound. "Dey know yah 're still alive and will be lookin' for yah."  
"What? But I have to. That's where all of our weapons are, along with food, ammo, and clothing," Germany said in frustration. Who did this guy think he was telling them what to do? He still didn't trust Sweden, something just seemed, off about him.  
"And Money," Prussia added, adding to Germany's anxiety. He clapped a hand over the side of his face and closed his eyes tightly. This whole thing was pushing Germany over the edge; Prussia was wounded, they were forced to stay in a dirty shed, he had no idea who he could trust, and on top of it all, he had to deal with these two Nords that had come to kill them then suddenly decided to play nice.  
"I und'rstand. I w'll be de one ta go," Sweden said.  
Germany looked at him suspiciously through the gap between his fingers.  
"I know yah don't trust me yet, but I prom'se yah dat I'm on yahr side. B'sides, I'm most qualif'd. You need ta stay 'ere with yahr wounded brother... yah kan keep Finland for insu'nce," he added when Germany didn't answer.  
"That doesn't sound very neighborly," Finland complained. "I don't want to be a bargaining tool."  
"I'm sorry Finland. Dey won't 'urt you. I prom'se, I will be b'ck soon." Sweden ruffled Finland's golden hair before exiting through the rotted door.  
"I never gave him the address, how does he know where it is?" Germany asked.  
"Oh no worries, Sweden knows," Finland said happily.  
"But if he knows, then Denmark probably knows as well," Prussia added after drinking the rest of the whisky.  
"That could be troublesome," Germany said.  
Finland looked back at Germany and Prussia. "Don't worry, Sweden can handle himself." I hope.


	5. Chapter 4: Ice

**Okay, so the chapter headings are now fixed. I don't know if you guys noticed, but it was driving me crazy. : /**

* * *

The streets were slick from the rainfall, murky water flowed through the gutters, and dark clouds remained overhead although the rain had stopped falling. Sweden snuck around a darkened corner, creating small ripples in a nearby puddle. It was long past midnight and the town was almost completely abandoned, but a few lights glimmered in the night sky. One of them was a flashing hotel sign on a dull, flat roofed, two story building.  
The door was locked, so Sweden went to the metal fire escape on the outside of the building. He leapt up and grabbed the bottom rung of the suspended ladder. He pulled himself up onto the platform and slowly walked to the proper window, stepping gently to keep the metal from creaking.  
Slipping his switch blade from his pocket, Sweden inserted it into the latch and unhooked it. There was a desk with numerous papers littering the surface that he gently stepped on, avoiding the paper so he wouldn't leave any foot prints. He vaulted down, his knees bent and arms raised so he landed quietly on the thick carpet.  
The instant his shoes hit the floor the room burst into light.  
"Sorry Sweden, you're a little late," a childlike voice said mockingly.  
Sweden turned to find Iceland sitting on a table beside the door. He had a slight smile on his lips but his icy blue eyes were sadistic and cold. His silvery hair was sloppily tucked into a brown cap the same color as his military jacket.  
"Denmark always praised you as his best little lapdog. Guess I should be his new favorite," Iceland chuckled.  
"I'm j'st en follow'r, Norway 's Denmark's 'fav'rite,'" Sweden commented, standing perfectly still and staring Iceland down. He was trying very hard to keep the resentment out of his voice.  
Iceland merely shrugged his shoulders. "Why are you here anyway?"  
"I could 'sk yah de same thin'."  
"I'm waiting for that moron Germany and his obnoxious brother to return. Obviously. Now, why don't you leave this to me and go beg to Denmark for forgiveness because of your disruptive laziness."  
"Yah s'ould know by now Iceland, I 'ate ta let thin's go ta waste. I would like ta take s'me of dis stuff wit' me. It could be us'ful."  
"Well, get on with it, cause I like my solitude."  
Sweden nodded then went about grabbing random bags and weapons, Iceland's frosty eyes following his every move.  
Sweden looked under the bed and found three large, army green duffle bags. He grabbed them along with a few knapsacks. He continued around the room and filled the bags with various articles of clean, freshly ironed clothes, water bottles, and German weapons.  
"Hey, what happened to your shadow? Finland I mean."  
" 'e's 'sleep," Sweden replied bluntly, going over to the cupboards.  
"Are you camping out on the streets again? Why are you stealing their food?"  
Sweden was getting annoyed with all the questions, but thought it would be suspicious if he didn't answer. "I don't w'nt it ta go ta waste," he repeated.  
"You're so stingy. No wonder why your government is falling apart."  
Sweden glared at Iceland in frustration. Iceland gave a satisfied smile.  
"You might want to get back to your little protégé, something could happen to someone like him."  
Sweden turned away, silently pledging to make Iceland's life miserable. He tossed three bags out the window and hauled a box of food after him.  
"I 'ope yah enjoy yahr solitude, 'cause Denmark isn't going ta be very 'appy when yah let de German brothers get away. Hej då," Sweden said in dismissal, hefting the large bags and continuing down the metal walkway. When he got to the ladder, he stopped abruptly. A thought suddenly occurred to him. He turned back and looked through the window.  
"Icel'nd," he said softly.  
The young man was heading out the door, and turned around in surprise.  
"Don't foll'w us. Ple'se, I have it und'r contr'l."  
"Sweden, what are you asking?"  
"I just need en few days. I'll get the Germans, I prom'se. Just ple'se, don't interf're."  
"What are you going to do?"  
"Just trust me. F'r old times sake."  
Iceland looked at him suspiciously. That hadn't really gotten along well lately, so Sweden couldn't blame him. Finally, Iceland nodded.  
"Fine. I don't know what you're going to do, but I trust you. You know more than any of us what will happen if you fail."  
"Ja. I know." Sweden turned away again, a little slower then before. He went down the ladder and towards the shack where the others were.  
Sweden didn't relax until he got at least a block away, then he collapsed against a stone wall and began shaking uncontrollably. He had no clue what he was doing. For years he supported Denmark, and Denmark supported him. Now he was throwing it all away.  
What was he thinking? This was Denmark he was going up against, plus Norway and Iceland. How could he protect Finland when the only people on his side were an untrusting German, and an annoying, unhelpful, not to mention wounded, Prussian?  
He was willingly digging himself in a dark hole which would probably become his grave sooner rather then later.  
This mission was supposed to be simple: Go to England, kill the Germans, then meet back with Denmark and take control of their lands. Why did Finland have to ask them for help? We don't need any help, everything is fine. Or it was.  
Sweden closed his eyes as his mind drifted to when he first received the mission.

Sweden exited the room and fiddled with a single paper in his left hand. It had the address for both Britain's Christmas party and where the Germans were staying. Sweden pushed open the door to his room and was surprised to see Finland still in bed. The sky out the window was just beginning to lighten with the coming of dawn.  
Sweden walked to the nightstand in between his bed and Finland's and retrieved his knife, slipping in into his boot. He then grabbed his coat and hat and was about to leave but turned back to look at Finland.  
Setting down his coat, Sweden sat on the edge of Finland's bed and swept his golden hair out of his eyes.  
Finland drowsily opened his eyes a fraction and starred unfocused at the wall.  
"God morgon," Sweden greeted him. Finland mumbled in reply, then closed his eyes again, quickly falling asleep.  
"Sleep well Finland." Sweden stood and closed the wooden blinds then continued to the door, but stopped when he heard Finland whisper his name. He looked over his shoulder in confusion, but returned anyway, continuing to stroke his hair.  
Finland sleepily snuggled closer to Sweden and sighed in satisfaction.  
Sweden looked towards the door, eager to start his mission. He pulled himself away from Finland and tucked him back into bed. Finland groaned in protest but Sweden calmed him by grasping his hand gently. "It's 'kay I'll be b'ck soon," Sweden assured him.  
Sweden stayed there until Finland fell asleep, then grabbed his coat and left the room. He walked down the hall, passing the many candles lighting the dismal stretch of deep mahogany.  
The silence was disturbed by the sound of bare feet running across the carpet. Sweden turned around and Finland slammed into him, wrapping his arms around Sweden's torso.  
Sweden slowly raised one arm and placed it over Finland's shoulders.  
"Please don't go. I have a really bad feeling, and I don't want anything to happen to you. What if you don't come back?" Finland seemed to be crying, so Sweden laid his hand on top of his hair to comfort him.  
"I'll come b'ck. I prom'se."  
"I couldn't live with myself if I let you go. Please, please take me with you."  
"Dis isn't en mission for en kind h'arted person like yah. It's danger'us an' I want yah ta stay 'ere."  
"Please Sweden! I don't care what the mission is, I want to be with you."  
Sweden released Finland and lowered himself to his eye level, wiping away a single tear that fell down his cheek.  
"Please, I won't hold you back. I'll do anything you tell me to do. I promise to keep up and not slow you down any, just please let me come with you!"  
Sweden looked into Finland's determined violet eyes and couldn't help but be amazed at the amount of conviction and sincerity hidden beneath their childish gaze.  
Breaking eye contact with Finland, Sweden stood and turned away. He waited for a moment and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and picking up his jacket. "Go get packed," he told Finland, still facing away.  
Finland inhaled sharply in unbelief. He quickly spun around and ran back down the hallway.  
Sweden turned around and watched as Finland disappeared into the darkness. He wanted Finland to stay here with Denmark where it was safe, but he would have been burdened with guilt if he ever disappointed him.

Sweden looked up at the sky as it began to rain again. The rain dripped down his face as he watched the droplets falling from the sky. He realized that if he had made Finland stay, then he would probably would have joined the clouds in the heavens.  
If Finland wasn't with him earlier that day, Germany would have tortured him for information, then killed him when he failed to be of any value.  
As Sweden thought about it, it didn't seem like such a bad idea to leave Denmark. Maybe he and Finland would be all right on their own, but Sweden was reluctant to take that chance. The only way he could ensure Finland's protection was to stick with Denmark.  
Finland was just overreacting. Denmark was always oblivious to others opinions, that didn't mean that he was cruel or dangerous. He had become a little prideful, but Sweden was confident that he would soon return to normal. This wasn't the first time that Denmark had acted up at this. They got through it once, they could do it again.  
Sweden trusted his fellow Nordics, and had no reason to believe that they would be better off with the Germans. Germany was known for his abrasive and impulsive attitude. Being around him was like sitting on time bomb, and his brother wasn't any better. In fact, Prussia was even worse! Ever since he became a country he was nothing but trouble. He managed to make a mess out of things even while living with Germany.  
Sweden had absolutely no reason to start trying to declare his independence. He pledged his allegiance to Denmark when they accepted a joint king. He was treated well at Denmark's house, even if he was as annoying as heck. Denmark protected him and Finland, and cared for them, Sweden had no right to ask for any more. All Sweden had to do was do a few little favors for Denmark, so he had nothing to complain about.  
Denmark told him to eliminate the Germans, so he would. He would gain their trust, then get rid of them when the opportunity arose.  
Sweden had a mission to complete, and he was willing to do anything to make it happen, even if it meant getting his hands a little dirty.


	6. Chapter 5: Preperation

Germany was pacing again, keeping silent vigil over the other two. Prussia was quiet and content as Finland slept on his lap, keeping them both warm.  
After checking that his jacket was dry, Germany slipped it over his broad shoulders, even though the tattered remains did little to keep back the cold. He looked out the single window above the sink to see the sun starting to rise over the endless sea of houses. Germany's mind wandered as he thought of the reasons why Sweden was late. Maybe he couldn't find the motel and was lost, or one of Denmark's supporters found him and he was either captured or convincing them that he was on their side. Of course, there was the possibility that he had betrayed them and told Denmark exactly where they were. He definitely seemed like the type of person to do something that foul.  
Just as Germany was imagining all the things he could do to Sweden if he betrayed them, the mysterious man entered through the back door.  
Sweden was carrying three large duffel bags over his shoulders and had a crumpled cardboard box in his hands. His thin frame looked unable to carry the heavy bags, but he confidently strode forward and placed them on the floor.  
Coming forward to see what Sweden had recovered, Germany noticed that the slender man was shaking from exhaustion, but his face remained neutral. It was more like a fierce glare, but Germany learned that was his normal face, and did his best not to look him in the eye.  
While Germany was sorting through the weapons, Sweden opened the box and extracted a can of beans. He dug deeper and found a metal spoon, opened the can with his knife, then went to the couch and gently aroused Finland.  
Finland looked at him groggily, but his face lit up as he noticed the can in Sweden's outstretched hand. He hastily ate the cold beans with a satisfied smile on his face.  
After running his hand through Finland's hair, Sweden returned to help sort the guns.  
"He seems really hungry, when was the last time you two ate?" Germany asked quietly, readjusting the strap on a Sturmgewehr 44.  
"Finland 'asn't 'ad food s'nce mornin' yesterday. We don't get much." Sweden removed a hunting knife from the box and began wiping the wet blade on his pants.  
"And you?" Germany asked.  
Sweden studied Germany's face briefly then focused his attention on the large hunting knife he was holding. "It's been en while," he confessed, setting the knife aside.  
"Why don't you get some breakfast and go to sleep? You've been up all night."  
Sweden kept his eyes focused on the cartridges he was organizing. "Nekande, yah've been up all night as well."  
"Yes, but I haven't been hauling weapons around the city. Get some sleep, I can finish up here."  
"I don't th'nk dat's wise. We need ta leave soon as poss'ble."  
"Why?" Germany asked, setting his gun aside.  
"I ran inta Iceland. 'e was at yahr motel. 'e may still be waitin' for yah two, or 'e could 'ave tried ta follow me, even though I tried ta take most indirect route as poss'ble."  
"Do you think he knows?"  
"Not lik'ly. But it's not safe 'ere."  
Germany looked over at his brother, who was now watching Finland curiously as the young man ate the uncooked beans. "Where else would we go? Prussia can't go very far," he said in a delicate whisper.  
Sweden paused for a moment, holding a hand up to his chin. "Do you 'ave any trustw'rthy allies?"  
"Uh, kinda." Germany thought about his two allies, Italy and Japan. If something happened and they needed to fight, Italy wouldn't be much help, but he hated to bother Japan, his home was so far from this conflict and the Asian hated confrontations. "Maybe my allies aren't the most reliable people, but we could try talking to Italy."  
"Whatever yah th'nk 's best."  
"We should go to my country first. Our military strength is weakened, but I could manage to assemble a few squads."  
"Is dat beca'se of de war?" Sweden asked.  
"Yeah," Germany admitted.  
"Dat 's probably de reason why Denmark 'as decided ta target yah. Now 's when yah're weakest."  
Germany scowled. It seemed like this guy was trying to demoralize him. But when he looked at Sweden, he could see only honesty behind his vivid eyes.  
"Did you get anything useful?" Prussia called out from the other side of the small house.  
"Yes," Germany and Sweden said in unison.  
"Anything edible?"  
Germany glanced over at the box. It was filled with MRE's, canned food, and a few perishables.  
"Not by your standards," Germany said sarcastically, hefting the box over to the table. "Guess we can take your share."  
"Haha, very funny," Prussia said, trying to hide the concern in his voice.  
"Here, share that with Finland while I heat up some spaghetti," Germany said, tossing a packet of Graham Crackers to him. "Hopefully the stove still works. Meanwhile I want you to get some sleep Sweden. That's an order."  
Sweden looked reluctant, but after removing his raincoat and glasses, he laid down on the rug and used his jacket for a pillow. He forced his eyes closed and waited for sleep to find him. When it did, Sweden found himself being dragged down in the black expanse.  
A flash of gold. Searing pain. Glowing sapphires mock his desolate demise. The stars fade, leaving him trapped in the darkness of forgotten bonds. A hand roughly seizes his shoulder and throws him to the ground.  
Sweden gradually awoke as someone gently shook his shoulder. He lifted his heavy eyelids to see Germany's pale blue eyes observing him like a strange insect, studying his every move. Germany stood and Sweden watched his black boots tromp across the floor before he noticed the bowl of heated spaghetti in front of him.  
Germany looked over his shoulder as he walked away from Sweden. He found himself wanting to conduct further research on the actions and behaviors of the strange Swedish man. It was a habit he retained from his time with Hitler during WW II, and he was determined to find out more about Sweden.  
Germany handed Prussia and Finland each a bowl then retrieved his from the table. Finland immediately hopped off the couch and joined Sweden on the floor, talking excitedly while Sweden murmured gruffly in reply.  
It was strange how Finland was so kind to the intimidating man. As far as he knew, they weren't related. Germany decided that he would have to keep a second observation diary on their interactions.  
Germany took Finland's former place on the couch next to Prussia. "How are you feeling?" he asked.  
"Not bad," Prussia muttered, his mouth full. "A little dizzy though."  
"That's called a hangover," Germany said.  
"Shut up."  
Germany smiled and patted his brother on the back. "What do you think about them?" he whispered, indicating Finland and Sweden sitting in front of them. Finland was now leaning against Sweden, who had his arm securely wrapped over the young man's shoulders.  
"You still don't trust them?"  
Germany shook his head. "Sweden seems too loyal for him to betray Denmark like that, and Finland… I just have a hard time trusting children."  
"Well, I trust them."  
Germany looked curiously at Prussia. The aggressive albino tended to be very suspicious of others, so Germany was taken aback by his sudden confidence in the strange newcomers.  
"Sweden cares about Finland, so he can't be totally bad. Besides, he promised. And he looks like someone who would keep his word no matter what." Prussia presented a big smile, his eyes closed and his white teeth flashed brightly.  
Germany couldn't help but smile back.  
"Mr. Sweden, your hat…" Finland said, pointing towards the broken wall. The dark blue hat was underneath a large support beam from the broken wall. Many boards were stacked on top of it, you'd have to move almost all the boards to get to it. "I'll get it for you."  
"Nej, It fine," Sweden murmured, barely glancing at where Finland was pointing.  
"It's no problem. Besides, you'll want you hat when we get going again."  
"Good luck mine friend," Germany said sarcastically. He didn't think that the small child could lift any the pieces, but he watched intently as Finland approached the dismantled wall.  
Finland rubbed his hands together then went straight for one of the support beams, which was a little larger then a railroad tie.  
"There's no way he can lift that," Prussia criticized, but he was forced to eat his words when Finland easily hefted the piece onto his shoulder. Prussia and Germany gaped in astonishment, while Sweden watched the ordeal from the corner of his eye, still eating his bowl of spaghetti and savoring every mouthful.  
"Does that not surprise you any?" Prussia asked Sweden. "Do you have any idea how heavy that thing is?"  
"Not for Finland."  
"What?" Germany and Prussia asked in unison.  
"Ja. Finland 's strong'r den 'e looks. 'e even took on Russia durin' de war. We figur'd dat it was s'me sort of freaky genetical problem."  
"That's impossible," Germany huffed.  
"No, just impr'bable."  
"Remind me not to get that kid angry," Prussia stated.  
"Now dat's impossible," Sweden stated. "I 'ave never seen 'im even scarc'ly angered, an' I can 'onestly say dat I 'ave no idea what could get 'im mad."  
"That's a relief," Germany said, only semi-sarcastic, but Prussia took it as a challenge and was determined to find something to get Finland furious enough to take a swing at someone. Preferably someone besides him.  
Finland came bounding back with Sweden's tattered hat and laid it in his hands. He had a huge smile on his face, but Sweden just nodded.

Germany and Finland distributed the supplies evenly between the three duffle bags and a small knapsack while the others rested.  
Germany took this as a chance to observe Finland. He seemed very intelligent and not as gullible as Germany first thought. Sure, Finland was very childish and carefree, but he was also very realistic.  
Finland was very careful while Germany taught him how to maintain the guns, checking the chamber every time. He was very delighted to help, and took his job very seriously.  
It wasn't quite adequate to call him a child, he was in his late teens, maybe even early twenties. He was mature but he still had a childlike personality and appearance.  
Germany thought he should start a conversation, but had no clue what to talk about.  
"Mr. Germany?" Finland said quietly, ending the silence. "Do you have a plan to stop Denmark?"  
"You seem very eager to get rid of this Denmark guy," Germany said nonchalantly, twisting the barrel on the rifle back into place. "You were allied with him till recently, what made you change your mind?"  
"You are avoiding the question Mr. Germany."  
"So are you."  
Finland nervously wiped his hands on his clean pants, which were the same color as the misty sky outside. "I've been considering leaving the Union of Kalmar for quite some time, so has Mr. Sweden...I think. But until now, no one has been willing to help us. You and Prussia seem very capable and are against Denmark as well, so that's why I thought you would help us."  
"You trust too easily," Germany huffed. "I don't think Prussia and I can take on Denmark. Especially not now." Germany's gaze drifted to his older brother wrapped in the ragged wool blanket.  
"I think I made a good choice," Finland said humbly. "I believe that you're the only person who can understand our situation."  
"What makes you say that?"  
"Because how you treat your brother."  
What does that have to do with anything? Germany thought. He noticed Finland glance at Sweden on the other side of the room. Germany followed his gaze, his eyes instantly narrowing as he looked at Sweden's vacant face. His expression was no different when he was sleeping then when he was awake. Didn't he have any emotion besides anger?  
"I know you still don't trust us," Finland said, his violet eyes trained on the hard wood floor, "but please, just give us a chance. We won't let you down."  
Placing the last gun in the duffle bag, Germany got to his feet. "We need to get going." He walked to the rickety table, Finland's innocent eyes following him the whole way.  
Germany kneeled down by Prussia and gently rocked his shoulder until he awoke. When Prussia's eyes finally opened, Germany held a bottle of water out to him. Prussia willingly took it with shaking hands and drank half of it, water dribbling down his chin.  
"Are we heading out?" Prussia asked.  
"Yes, we can't stay here any longer now that we know Iceland is here. We'll leave in ten minutes." Germany grabbed the largest bag and dropped it next to Sweden. "We're leaving," he said gruffly, then handed a small knapsack to Prussia.  
Prussia immediately started searching the knapsack while Germany stood patiently.  
"Hey, where's the time bomb I made?" Prussia whined.  
"I 'ave it," Sweden replied groggily from behind the couch as he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.  
"Well, hand it over."  
"I think you will be fine without it," Germany told him, reorganizing the stuff in Prussia's knapsack. Prussia looked defiantly at Germany, but when he turned his gaze to Sweden, he figured it best to leave the matter alone.  
Finland abandoned his duffel bag and ran over to Sweden, leaning against him. Sweden glanced down and rubbed Finland's blonde hair.  
They followed Germany out the door. Sweden was the last to exit the house, his black glove slipping off the golden handle as his narrow blue eyes watched Germany's every move.


	7. Chapter 6: Stars

The group traveled leisurely southeast from London with the German brothers in front and the Nords in back. Germany was hoping to get to the coastline before dark, but dusk was settling in and so far they had only traveled half the distance. If they traveled during the night, they could reach the coast before dawn.  
Germany, looking back at the two Nords, tried to decide what was the best thing to do. They seemed wide awake; Finland was pleasantly watching birds fly from the trees and Sweden was walking confidently with his head held high. Although they seemed alert, Prussia was not so well off.  
The albino's eyes drooped as he hung with one arm over Germany's shoulders, his snowy head of hair bounced lazily with every shuffling step. Letting out a disappointed sigh, Germany lowered Prussia to the ground and turned to face the two strangers.  
"I think we should stop here for the night," Germany told them, earning queer looks from the two pairs of tinted blue eyes. Germany took this moment to observe the differences and similarities in their physical appearances as they stopped to look at him.  
Both were very slender and had the traditional long, Nordic faces, slanted shoulders and refined, sturdy legs. Their hair was about the same length–Finland's a little longer–but Sweden's hair was a dusky blonde, while Finland's was a startling gold in the rays of the setting sun.  
Their eyes had the same overall shape, angled and slanted moderately, both were an extravagant shade of blue–Finland's closer to violet and Sweden's had a greenish hue–but Sweden's eyes where always narrowed in a suspicious gaze, severely contrasting with Finland's trusting and invigorating glance.  
"We're stoping, already?" Finland asked in dismay.  
"Yes," Germany confirmed. "Prussia can't go on much farther."  
Prussia looked up at Germany defiantly, but kept quiet, letting his glare speak for itself.  
"May I make en sugges'n?" Sweden said, looking at Germany.  
"Go ahead," Germany instructed, a little flustered.  
"If yah 're determin'd on conti'ng, den I kan carry Prussia. Is dat accep'ble?"  
"NO!" Prussia shouted. "I can walk by myself!"  
"Not really," Germany told his brother.  
"No freaking way! I'd rather die!"  
"It's a good idea brother, please cooperate."  
Prussia folded his arms in defiance and stuck his nose in the air. "No," he repeated.  
"Prussia! Iceland is in London, and we need to get away from him. For all we know, he could be following us right now!"  
Prussia whispered something under his breath, dropping his gaze to the ground.  
"What was that?" Germany said in outrage.  
"I said fine!"  
A few minutes later the group continued, Prussia reluctantly being held in Sweden's arms like a child. Germany walked in front of them while Finland took up the rear. They left the city behind and began trudging through the woods. The crescent moon barely reached the forest floor, making it difficult to safely navigate the rough ground.

It was long after midnight and Sweden was slowly falling behind. His sore legs could barely lift high enough to avoid the tree roots and his arms shook from exhaustion. Prussia was asleep in his arms, his head turned towards Sweden's chest, keeping his face warm.  
Sweden steadily put his foot onto a large root, but when he put his weight on it, his foot slipped and he fell forward, sending Prussia crashing to the ground.  
"Hey, what's the big idea, you–Argh!" Prussia bent over, grasping his ribcage in pain. He looked up through squinted eyes to see Sweden hunched over, completely exhausted and gasping for breath.  
"Sweden!" Finland called out, startling Germany. While Finland ran to Sweden, Germany approached Prussia, but the albino roughly shoved him away.  
"I'm fine," Prussia stated.  
"Ursäkter. I'm re'lly s'rry Germany," Sweden apologized.  
"It's fine. I didn't expect you to be able to carry him that long," Germany said compassionately. He was embarrassed that he had become so focused on the journey he forgot about Prussia. Germany reprimanded himself and pledged to take better care of his companions. "I think we should stop for the night."  
"I just need en little break," Sweden said, still gasping for air. "Besides, it's too cold, so we need ta keep moving."  
"Nein, we can make a fire."  
Sweden made no further complaints as Germany and Finland began gathering wood. Finland ripped dead branches off the trees and handed them to Germany who assembled them into a teepee pattern on the ground.  
"Oi Sweden, you okay?" Prussia asked.  
"Yah needn't worry 'bout me," Sweden said. "I 'ope dat I didn't 'urt yah any."  
Germany came forward and gently lifted Prussia to his feet, bringing him closer to the fire. After getting Prussia warm, Germany removed his shirt and carefully changed the bandages.  
It didn't take long before Sweden was fast asleep, Finland sitting right beside him. The young man gently readjusted Sweden's raincoat to cover him better. He raked his fingers over Sweden's hair as he gazed into the fire. He lifted his head and noticed the clear night sky, thousands of stars gleaming through the black netting of the night.  
The glimmer of each star brought back memories of warm nights when he and Sweden used to observe the stars for hours on end, not a single word passing their lips. He remembered a time when Sweden taught him about the different constellations, and how to find the North Star.

"Dat is Sagittarius, over there's Cancer, and right 'bove us 's de Big Dipper. If yah find it, yah kan trace en line between de two stars on de end, and there's de North Star." Sweden lowered his arm and folded his arms against his chest.  
"Can you always find it that way?" Finland asked.  
"Yes, 'lways. No matter 'ow much life changes, de North star will 'lways stay de same."  
Finland yawned and nestled deeper into the soft grass.  
"What I want yah ta remember from all dis," Sweden continued, "is dat if yah pick any point in de sky, there's en thousand stars dat yah can't see. De sun an' moon change with de seasons, but de stars 're 'lways there. 'lways watching."  
Finland closed his eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the sweet mountain air. When he opened his eyes he saw a shooting star blaze across the sky.  
"Sweden look!" he said, pointing up at the sky, but the star was already gone.  
"Yah found it, dat means yah get ta make en wish."  
Finland waited for a moment, he didn't know what to wish for. He had everything he could ever want; nice clothes, new boots, a good job. What more could he ask for? He turned his head to the side to see Sweden looking up at the sky, his eyes peaceful and content. At that moment he knew exactly what he wanted.  
'I wish that Sweden can always be this happy, that he can always be smiling, and I can always be there for him. Always.'

But Finland knew better now. He knew that a simple comet could never grant such a wish. Nothing could. The stars meant nothing, they were just distant specks of light in an unending universe, there was nothing special about them. He used to wish the same thing on the first star of every night, but Sweden's smile disappeared, just like the stars did every morning. Finland was starting to doubt if it would ever come back. Everything changed after that night so long ago. Even the eternal stars lost their luster that night.  
Finland sat silently for a while longer, then laid down in front of Sweden.  
Briefly waking, Sweden slid Finland closer, protectively slinging his arm over his shoulders.  
"Goodnight Sweden."  
"Goodnight. Finland," Sweden murmured; his soft voice promising the coming of the morning sun, his protective arm guaranteeing safety throughout the moonlit night, his gentle breath bringing peace, his beating heart lifting sorrows and driving away pain.  
That was what Finland felt every night when Sweden whispered those heartfelt words into his ear, and he knew that every moment spent with him, awake or asleep, would be one full of comfort and joy.


	8. Chapter 7: Training

Early the next morning, Finland leaned far over the railing of the large ferry, the salty water gently moistening his golden hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of the sea roaring past them. When he opened his eyes, Finland saw a large fish swimming alongside the ship's hull.  
"Sweden, look!" Finland exclaimed, seeing a school of fish following the boat. They dashed through the shimmering water, their silky scales reflecting the sun under the gentle waves. The school of fish danced, collaborating together to form an obscured performance of elegance.  
Sweden nodded indifferently, slowly eating the can of Surströmming he purchased before they got on the ferry. He slowly chewed the slice of fish, savoring the vibrant taste and delicate texture.  
Finland ran to the back of the boat to continue watching the fish, startling Prussia and Germany.  
With a slight smile, Germany joined Finland, leaning on the railing. "So you like watching fish?"  
"Oh yes," Finland replied. "I live by the Baltic Sea, so I see them a lot, but I never get to observe them from a boat. It's much different, almost like you're there with them."  
"What's it like where you live?" Germany asked with genuine curiosity.  
"In Finland? Well, it is quite small but we have a huge variety of animals. I think it's because summer is very warm, and winter is fairly cold. However, warm wind comes from the gulf stream, so even in winter it is quite pleasant, although Sweden's place always seems to be warmer."  
"Speaking of Sweden, I have something I need to talk to him about," Germany said, starting to walk away.  
"Uh, I wouldn't bother him while he's eating, he might get a little upset," Finland warned him, grabbing his sleeve.  
"Oh really?" Germany was suddenly intrigued, curious to see the Swedish man show some kind of emotion. Despite Finland's warning, he casually strode over to Sweden, Germany sat down and began chatting, intentionally being loud and obnoxious.  
"Finland was just telling me about living by the Baltic sea. My home doesn't have many bodies of water, so I wouldn't know much about it. It would be strange to have your country along the edge of such a big lake, it probably has a huge effect on your culture. Do you have floods very often?"  
At this point, Sweden raised his head, a small fish still in his hand. He slowly turned his head until he made eye contact with Germany, his turquoise eyes glittering menacingly in the early morning sun.  
With a vacant expression, Sweden intently focused on Germany.  
"I can kill yah with m' fisk," he said harshly, his gruff voice piercing the silence and sending chills down the German's spine.  
Slowly retreating, Germany held up his hands defensively. Sweden's ominous eyes followed him until he bolted around the corner.  
Tip: Never, EVER, bother Sweden while he's eating.  
Germany looked up to see Finland suppressing a laugh, but Prussia wasn't so modest; he bust out in an obnoxious roar of laughter, slapping his knee and throwing his head back.  
"If only you could see your face right now! It looks like you just left a French Valentine's Day celebration!"  
"That isn't amusing. Especially since France is our next stop," Germany scolded.  
Prussia's laughter slowly faded. "...Oh."  
"Hold on, what's wrong with France?" Finland asked innocently, earning sympathetic looks from the German brothers.  
"It's best if you don't know," Prussia said sincerely.  
Finland still looked curious, and opened his mouth to say something, but Germany interrupted him, "Hey Finland, Sweden said that he was going to kill me with his 'fisk.' What did he mean by that?"  
"I hate those stupid fish," Prussia muttered, unnoticed.  
Finland's eyes widened in astonishment. "You must have gotten him really angry, he doesn't threaten people unless he is seriously irritated."  
"Wait, threaten? You mean he was serious about killing me with a herring?" Germany asked, glancing back at Sweden around the corner.  
"Well, yeah," Finland confirmed.  
"How is that even possible? I think you're making that up," Prussia protested.  
"No, it's true! He really can kill someone with a fish!"  
Prussia waved him off incredulously. Finland looked at Germany for support, but he was also reluctant to believe the absurd story.  
Right then, the ship's foghorn sounded, signaling the approach on the harbor.  
"Finally, I was beginning to get seasick," Prussia said.  
"I'll go get Sweden," Germany grumbled. "And I'll ask him about this fish thing while I'm at it." Quickly getting to his feet, Germany almost ran into Sweden, who was standing idly at the corner.  
"Do yah need somethin'?" Sweden asked, not hearing Germany's previous comment.  
Germany was dumbfounded, and mumbled something incoherently. Sweden waited for a moment, his narrow eyes attentively observing Germany's mute face.  
Germany remained perfectly still as Sweden's eyes glowered down at him.  
Sweden left Germany in his stupor, retrieving his bag from beside Prussia, then disappearing on the other side of the boat with Finland following happily behind him.  
"Cat got your tongue?" Prussia asked, his trademark smile etched across his face.  
"Shut up," Germany said in embarrassment, earning a slight chuckle from his brother. He grabbed his bag and helped Prussia to his feet, then continued after the others.  
Germany glanced around at the people at the harbor. It was a humble fishing port, and the people seemed cheerful, but were quieter then would be expected from such a large town.  
The wooden buildings looked like they belonged in the medieval times, but were in good condition.

"I wo'ld like ta check Prussia's wound 'gain," Sweden said when they got off the ferry.  
"Sure, but let's go somewhere where there aren't so many people around," Germany replied. Sweden nodded and they continued across the harbor until they found a darkened alley. Sweden had Prussia sit on a packing crate and unbuttoned his shirt so he could remove the bandages.  
"Is it getting any better?" Germany asked with concern.  
"No," Sweden replied, gently wiping blood off the raw skin. "We need ta go at en slower pace. Now dat we're out of England, it should be 'arder for dem ta find us."  
"Shouldn't we take him to a hospital?" Finland asked in concern.  
"No. Iceland knows dat Prussia's wo'nded, so dat 's first place 'e w'll check."  
"Remind me later to teach you better English," Germany said, patting Sweden on the shoulder.  
Sweden glanced at Germany's hand then continued wrapping Prussia's wound. After he finished, Sweden stood up to address Germany. "It's best if we le've de city. De more people dat see us, de easier 't will be for Iceland ta find us. 'e is very persuasive, an' knows 'ow ta get people ta talk."  
"That seems reasonable. Prussia, are you ready?" Germany asked his brother, who grumbled in reply. Germany lifted Prussia to his feet and began following Sweden out of town. "Do we need any more supplies?" Germany asked Sweden, who was currently carrying both of their bags.  
"We could use more bl'nkets," Sweden replied. "Yah kan continue on an' I'll catch up with yah lat'r."  
"How will you know where to meet us?"  
Sweden pulled out a map and studied it closely. "'ere. There is en abandon'd Lumb'r Mill ta de east, I'll meet yah there."  
Taking his bag from Sweden and giving him some money, Germany continued east with Prussia hanging over his shoulder and Finland beside him. The sun shone down upon the rich green grass, dissipating the chill of the mountain air. The ground was soft and damp from the recent rainfall, and birds flittered through the trees.  
Germany told Finland to scout ahead and make sure that the Mill was indeed abandoned. The exuberant youth ran ahead while he and Prussia ambled on.  
"Brother, do you mind if I ask you something?" Germany asked Prussia, who looked up at him skeptically. They normally didn't talk unless it had to do with an operation, and Germany certainty never asked him questions. Prussia prepared himself for some stupid question, and nodded his head.  
"It's about Sweden," Germany muttered in embarrassment.  
Oh, so that's what it was about: Germany's lame idea of entertainment. Now he was going to ask Prussia about his ideas on the subject, but he couldn't care less why Sweden acted so strange.  
"Did you know him during the Crusades?"  
Now that came as a surprise. Germany hated to admit that Prussia was older, and he had never, ever, asked him about the Crusades. Or anything in his past for that matter.  
"What makes you so curious about me all the sudden? I am not going to become your next research project!" Prussia snapped.  
"I'm interested that's all!" Germany said defensively. "Aren't brothers supposed to spend time talking to each other?"  
"Yeah? Well we don't!"  
"Why not?" Germany asked quietly.  
"Well, I don't know," Prussia admitted. "We just…have never done it before…"  
"So what's wrong with starting now?"  
"After all we've been through, now you want to talk?"  
"What's wrong with that?" Germany asked sincerely.  
Prussia was instantly worried that he might be going soft, but when he thought about it, there wasn't anything that said to be manly you couldn't talk to your brother. He looked up to make sure that Finland wasn't coming back, and looked back at Germany.  
"Yeah, I knew him. Him and his jerk of a brother."  
"Denmark?" Germany asked, earning a shudder from Prussia. "Wait, is that why you hate anything that sounds like the name 'Mark'?"  
"No! Of course not! Now shut up before I kill you," Prussia muttered.  
"I was just–"  
"Mr. Germany!" they heard Finland call from the edge of the woods. "All clear!"  
"Tender brotherly moment over?" Prussia asked sarcastically.  
"Yeah."

Prussia sat on one of the crumbling walls, swinging his feet back and forth. He was breathing in the crisp air when a light chirp sounded beside him. He looked down to see a tiny yellow canary perched by his hand. Prussia waved his hand, frightening the fat canary away.  
The golden ball of fluff returned, sitting in the exact same place. Instead of shooing it away, Prussia tentatively held out his hand. The bird promptly hopped on his glove.  
"Oi, West! Look at this!" Prussia yelled, displaying the bird proudly.  
"You made a new friend huh? I'm surprised that your shouting doesn't perturb it any," Germany said, earning a gleeful laugh from Prussia.  
"Friend huh? I think I'll call it Gilbird." The canary chirped in delight as Prussia ran his finger over it's velvety feathers.  
"Mr. Germany? Why did he call you West?" Finland asked quietly.  
"Oh that? It's the nickname he gave me since I used to live on the west side of Germany." Germany replied, slipping his army cap over his blonde hair to protect his light skin from the intense sunlight. As he adjusted the cap, Germany saw Sweden striding forward with long, precise steps.  
"You got your glasses fixed?" Finland asked as Sweden came closer.  
"Ja." Sweden approached Germany and handed him the extra money, but Germany insisted that he keep it in case the got separated. Sweden accepted and set about loading three blankets and a thick tarp into the different bags, but took the last blanket over to Prussia.  
"Oi Sweden, check out my new little subordinate," Prussia said, still stroking Gilbird's feathers.  
"Yah seem rath'r despe'rate ta 'ave someone ta order 'round," Sweden commented, setting the blanket beside him.  
"What? No I'm not! He asked for it," Prussia accused the tiny bird. "It's not my fault he won't leave me alone!"  
"Efterbliven," Sweden moaned, covering one of his ears as he returned to Germany. "I th'nk dat we should wait 'ere for en few hours," he told Germany.  
"That's fine by me," Germany replied, lounging on the grass.  
Sweden nodded and picked up a thin branch. "'ere," he said tossing it to Finland. "I th'nk dat it's time I taught yah 'ow ta fight."  
"Really! You're going to teach me?" Finland hopped off the wall, but his feet never reached the ground. Sweden had swung his staff under his feet, causing him to fall on the soft grass.  
"Rule numb'r one: Yahr enemy w'll nev'r fight fa'rly."  
Finland nodded and got to his feet. Sweden thrust his staff forward, knocking Finland back.  
"Keep yahr guard up."  
Finland raised the stick defensively and tightened his grip on it. Sweden attacked again, slamming the stick harshly.  
"Don't lock yahr elbows. Stand up str'ight. Keep movin'. Watch m' feet."  
Finland tried desperately to listen to Sweden's commands and stop his attacks at the same time. Sweden consistently moved forward, a simple flick of his wrist sending the staff flying through the air. Finland had no opening for attack, the reach of Sweden's staff was just too long.  
"Tip: When yahr en'my 'as en longer reach, get within de range of attack, den strike."  
Finland instantly darted forward, but Sweden shoved him back. "Yah're too predictable," Sweden stated. Finland watched Sweden's every move closely. He used only his right hand and struck quickly, recoiling after every strike. There was a moment after every down strike when he would briefly pull his hand out to the side, leaving an opening on the left side.  
Finland waited patiently, watching every movement carefully. Left, right, right, up, left, down, NOW!  
Finland darted forward on his left side, and drove his stick towards Sweden's side.  
Sweden placed a hand on Finland's head and twisted out of the way, wrapping his arm around Finland's neck.  
"Rule numb'r two: Don't let yahr enemy get behind yah." Sweden let go of Finland and pushed him to the ground.  
"Don't you think that's a little harsh?" Germany asked from the sidelines.  
"Dat 's m' m'thod of teaching," Sweden said, turning to Germany. "If yah've got a probl'm with it, den yah kan teach 'im."  
As Sweden continued talking, Finland took the opportunity to attack. He grabbed Sweden's collar with one hand, and his belt with the other. He kicked Sweden's feet forward, and hurled him over his head, slamming Sweden headfirst into the ground.  
"Rule number three: Never underestimate your opponent!" Finland said, standing proudly over Sweden.  
"I th'nk we're done for de day…" Sweden mumbled, the top of his head still stuck in the marshy ground.


	9. Chapter 8: Trust

Germany was sprawled out on the damp grass in the afternoon sun, his hands laced behind his head. In the northern part of France, far down in the valleys during the early afternoon, it felt like spring. But only when the wind wasn't blowing; then it felt like winter again.  
It had been three days since they crossed the border into France, and meanwhile they had successfully passed Paris and the group was gradually becoming more relaxed. Prussia was healing well, but they still had to stop quite often. So in order to pass the time, Sweden had purchased a Swedish book from a pawn shop with his extra money. Last Germany had checked, Sweden was sitting on a fallen tree and flipping through the abused and yellowed pages. Germany didn't know where Prussia and Finland were, but he trusted Sweden enough to keep an eye on them.  
Germany let his mind drift away as he forgot about all his problems and responsibilities, if only for a moment. He had just fallen into a light sleep when he felt something brushing lightly against his upper lip. He waited for a moment, hoping that it was a just bug and it would go away. He was reluctant to open his eyes, fearing that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, but the gentle brushing persisted.  
Lifting his heavy eyelids and blinking in the sudden sunlight, Germany could vaguely see two figures crouching over him. His eyes snapped open as he recognized Finland standing next to Prussia, who had his new pet Gilbird perched on his head. The disturbing thing was the black marker clutched in his brother's hand.  
With a startled yelp, Prussia stopped his drawing and quickly took the marker away from Germany's face.  
Before Germany could even sit up, Prussia and Finland were running away, laughing joyfully with Gilbird flying beside them.  
Sweden momentarily glanced up from his book, oblivious to what Finland and Prussia had done to torment Germany.  
So much for being able to rely on him, Germany thought regretfully. "Get back here you filthy rascals!" he screamed, contorting the toothbrush mustache flawing his otherwise ideal face. He bolted to his feet and ran after the two, ripping up the flattened grass. After sprinting at top speed, he caught up to them and pushed Prussia to the ground with a foot between his shoulder blades, then grabbed Finland's hair, putting him in a tight headlock.  
"Ow! Get off you mammoth! West that hurts!" Prussia screamed, slapping the ground in submission.  
"You should have thought of that sooner!" Germany raged furiously. He drilled his fist onto the top of Finland's head. "Where did you get the marker?" he inquired forcefully.  
"Sweden, shouldn't you be helping me?" Finland cried out in distress.  
"Nej, yah deserve 't," Sweden replied indifferently, turning another page in his book.  
After a few more seconds of torture, Germany dropped Finland and took his foot off of Prussia's back. He snatched away the marker and began lecturing them about respect.  
Prussia was chuckling lightly while Gilbird landed on his shoulder.  
"So you find this amusing?" Germany yelled, waving the marker in his brother's face.  
"I just can't take you seriously at the moment," Prussia remarked, earning a suppressed laugh from Finland.  
With a hidden scowl, Germany hit the two over the head with the thin marker, then walked away and sat beside Sweden on the fallen tree. "Can't I ever get some peace and quiet? Just one hour is all I'm asking."  
Germany watched as Sweden mutely glanced over at him. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, it was like his face was frozen in that vacant stare.  
Sweden pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Germany.  
"Thanks," Germany said as he wiped off the black ink. "Did I get all of it?" he asked Sweden. From the look Sweden gave him, it was a safe bet to say that he only succeeded in making it worse.  
Sweden passively held out his hand and Germany returned the handkerchief. He grabbed his own water bottle, moistened the cloth, then returned it.  
Germany took the cloth and finished cleaning his face. Maybe Sweden wasn't that bad after all; perhaps he wasn't untrustworthy, just unable to show his emotions. Either way, Germany finally felt like they had started to become friends. It was a detached and fragile friendship, but at least they were getting off to a good start.


	10. Chapter 9: Ambush

Dark clouds swirled overhead, blocking out the evening sun and casting an eerie glow over the forest. Gusts of wind tore leaves from the branches of the trees and ruffled the damp grass.  
"Looks like it will rain soon," Finland observed.  
"We are almost to the border. Once we get there I am sure that he can find shelter in Fürweiler.  
"What if we don't get there before the rain comes?" Finland asked.  
"We'll make it," Germany said confidently.  
"You sure about that?" Prussia asked.  
"Yes, I'm sure."  
"Don't you think we should have a backup plan? Just in case?" Prussia scoffed, coming up right next to Germany. Ever since Prussia had started feeling better, he returned to his normal, annoying self. He would complain about everything and criticize Germany every chance he got.  
"There is no need for one. I assure you that we will get to Fürweiler before it rains."  
"You're such a hypocrite!" Prussia shouted. "You're the one that's always saying a wise solider is the one that expects the unexpected," he said as hung over Germany's shoulders and jabbed a finger at his face.  
"I know what I am doing," Germany said calmly.  
Prussia shoved Germany away. "One of these days you're going to make a mistake in your calculations and I'm the one that's going to have to bail you out!"  
"We've been over this Prussia; no matter what happens, I'll never show an opening to the enemy. I understand my own limits, so I'll be just fine."  
"No, you don't understand. Once you do reach your actual limits, you'll be in serious trouble."  
"Brother…"  
"I say that we find some shelter here in the forest. It's better to be delayed for a few hours, then being stuck in a downpour."  
"Brother…" Germany repeated.  
"Alrighy then! Let's go going!"  
"Prussia!" Germany interrupted. "There is no shelter!"  
"Shows how much you know. I saw a cave at the base of that mountain," Prussia said pridefully, pointing to a point on the mountain to the east  
"We aren't going back," Germany stated.  
"We~st!" Prussia whined. "It's cold, can't we stop for the night. Please?"  
"He's really loud," Finland whispered to Sweden, who seemed to be taking an interest in their argument.  
"I believe dat's 'ow all German's 're," Sweden replied. "I'll see what I kan do." He quickened his pace until he caught up to them, but before he could say anything a seductive voice spoke softly behind him.  
"Oh, what a sweet little kid," the voice said admiringly. "If only Denmark didn't want you killed, then I would make you a French territory in a heartbeat!"  
Sweden twisted around to see a slender man with long wavy hair falling to his shoulders. He was behind Finland and his arm around his neck, stroking his golden hair with his free hand.  
Finland was absolutely petrified: He stood frozen in the man's grasp, eyes wide with terror. Sweden was so startled by the man's sudden appearance, that he was just as shocked as Finland. He held his ground as he locked eyes with the strange man.  
The man put his cheek against Finland's and breathed deeply. "Your sent is as alluring as Burgundy wine, vraiment merveilleux. Your skin; as soft and tender as the morning sun. It's so temping, I just want to lick it."  
"Sweden save me!" Finland cried.  
Sweden was instantly broken from his trance as he bolted toward the man in a wild frenzy. Prussia yanked him back and seized his hand before he could reach the throwing knifes on his belt.  
"Sweden stop! France is the last person you want to mess with!"  
"I don't c're!" Sweden screamed back.  
"Sweden, let me handle this," Germany said, aiming his gun directly between France's eyes.  
"Don't bother Germany," the man said. He snapped his fingers and a squad of soldiers emerged from their hiding places, completely surrounding them. He ran his hand through Finland's hair and let it gracefully slip through his fingers. "What an attractive bunch you are. I'd hate to ruin such lovely faces, but orders are orders, and the price on your heads is more attractive then the four of you put together."  
"Sweden, please," Finland whispered as France ran his fingers over his face.  
Sweden had the urge to attack, but Prussia laid a hand on his shoulder.  
"France, I knew you were twisted, but this is low even for you," Germany said, the gun still aimed at his face.  
"What can I say? Denmark is very persuasive. Although, even with the fair price on his head, I think I want to keep this one. There are plenty of other blonde children that I could give to Denmark instead. I'm sure that after a shot to the face, even he wouldn't be able to tell the difference."  
France opened his mouth to continue, but two knives whisked on either side of his head, sending strands of blonde hair falling to the ground.  
Sweden quickly produced another pair of knifes and held them tightly in his gloved hand. He gazed at France coldly, daring him to speak again.  
The surrounding soldiers lifted the guns and aimed at Sweden. Prussia shoved Sweden to the ground an instant before the guns sounded. While the soldiers were concentrating on Sweden, Germany opened fire, not a single shot wasted.  
Sweden threw his knives and killed two more soldiers, then headed for France.  
Finland bit France's arm and ducked and instant before Sweden grabbed France by the throat.  
France twisted and hit Sweden with a fierce uppercut to the base of his ribcage. While he was hunched over, France retreated a fair distance and waited.  
Sweden came at him again with the last knife in his hand. France dodged his attack and darted away a safe distance. Sweden continued forward but France easily evaded each attack.  
A gun sounded behind France, briefly drawing his attention. Sweden threw the knife at France's foot, making him fall to the ground.  
Sweden kneeled on France's chest and grabbed his collar. He pulled back his arm and delivered a powerful blow to the side of France's face.  
France simply smiled. He looked straight into Sweden's eyes as he chuckled softly. Before Sweden could hit him again, France swung his fist into Sweden's jaw.  
Sweden fell to the side and just got to his knees when France kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled back and shakily regained his balance, France slowly striding forward.  
Sweden looked to Prussia for help, but the albino was currently trying to wrestle a rifle away from one of the soldiers.  
"You really care deeply for that delicate flower of yours."  
Sweden backed away. He hit into a tree and France instantly pinned his forearm against Sweden's neck. "One of these days, he will be mine. Besides, you can't protect your family forever." France whispered in his ear.  
Sweden instantly brought his leg up and kneed France in the groin. France let out a small, high pitched squeak before falling to the ground and Sweden's feet.  
"Dat may be tru', but no one kan stop m' from trying."  
Sweden caught a glimpse of metal and leaned back just as a gun fired. The soldier that shot at him fell to the ground as Finland shot him in the leg. Sweden knew that he could have easily hit the soldier right between his eyes, but Finland never shot to kill.  
"Sound the alarm!" another solider cried. Following his words, a trumpet sounded through the trees.  
"Retreat!" Germany yelled.  
Sweden promptly got to his feet with Finland right behind him. Before Finland left, however, he kicked France in the stomach. He looked over his shoulder to see French reinforcements coming from the German border. Then he ran after the others, quickly matching Sweden's long stride.  
"Hand it over!" Prussia yelled, tugging at Germany's bag.  
"No. You can't have it! You'll blow us all to high heavens!" Germany yanked the bag back and rushed forward.  
Prussia stumbled as a bullet hit a tree in front of him. "I want my bomb! We need it!"  
"Concentrat' on runnin'," Sweden advised as he came next to Prussia.  
After a while, they slowed to a steady jog. Rain began to fall in thick sheets as they climbed up the gradual slope up the mountain. The mud slid under their feet, making them stumble at every step.  
Prussia reluctantly accepted help from Sweden as they made it up the last stretch to the cave. Germany was the first one in the cave and hauled the others up.  
"I told you it would rain!" Prussia accused his brother the instant he sat down.  
"If we weren't ambushed, then we would have made it," Germany retorted.  
"If you listened to me, then we wouldn't be in this mess!"  
"We would have run into the ambush sooner or later, and I'm glad that it was sooner. Now we can make new plans."  
"New plans? What else can we do? France is blocking our access to Germany, Switzerland will never help us because of his whole neutrality thing, and Italy is completely worthless. You know that! And still you insist that everything is alright. Well it's not!"  
"Prussia," Germany said softly. This was unlike Prussia, usually Germany was the one who was realistic and he was the one insisting that they continue regardless of the odds. It was unnerving.  
"No! We're dead! There's nothing we can do now!"  
"Yes there is!" Germany shouted back. Prussia was so startled by his outburst, that he fell silent. "We are going to Italy. We are going to get all the troops he has. We can get word to Japan…"  
"And then what?" Prussia asked quietly. "Italians can't fight. Japan can't get here fast enough. We can't do anything…"  
"Yah're forgettin' somethin'," Sweden said from the back of the cave. He stepped out of the shadows and stood next to Prussia. "Yah have us. We are Nordics too, and we will not stop fighting. If we die, we die with honor."  
The group stayed silent for a moment, then slowly nodded their heads in agreement.  
"I think that's the most you've ever said Sweden," Prussia commented, lightening the dreary mood.  
"And dat's de longest yah've ever stopped talking."  
Prussia stuck his tongue out at Sweden, then leaned against the wall.  
"Now I know why you guys were so scared of France," Finland said with a frown. "She's the ugliest girl I've ever seen!"  
Prussia and Germany chuckled at Finland's innocence and began to lay out the bed rolls. Sweden ruffled Finland's hair. He wasn't smiling, but the way his face softened made it seem that way.


	11. Chapter 10: Scars

A full week had passed since the small group had left Paris, and they were enjoying the runoff from a hot spring along the border of Italy. Germany, Prussia, and Finland frolicked in the warm water while their freshly cleaned clothes dried in the sun. Sweden of course, was content with sitting on the frosty riverbank, flipping through the last pages of his book. The chill of the wind skimmed over the surface of the water, but that didn't deter the three as they enjoyed a well earned period of relaxation.  
Germany watched as Finland expertly stacked leaves on the surface on the water, carefully placing them together to form a small pyramid. As Finland added the last few leaves, Germany's gaze drifted to where Prussia was floating on a piece of driftwood.  
Germany tapped Finland on the shoulder and motioned towards Prussia, a mischievous smile on his thin lips. Finland nodded and the two lowered themselves into the water, slowly pursuing Prussia like hungry crocodiles; only the top half of their heads showing above the smooth surface of the water.  
The unsuspecting Prussia let his hand lazily sink into the water, making gentle ripples as he moved it in tiny circles. The sun softy beat down on his pale skin and turned his hair a gleaming white.  
Germany and Finland situated themselves at the side of the plank of wood. Germany silently took a deep breath through his nostrils and slipped underneath Prussia.  
Finland did the same, and placed his hands underneath the edge. After a few moments, Germany exploded upwards, lifting the plank into the air while Finland flipped it over, sending Prussia flailing into the water.  
Sweden lifted his book out of the splash zone, but the water succeeded in drenching his boots and the bottom of his pants. Germany and Finland burst out in laughter and high-fived each other in celebration.  
The flustered and frustrated Prussian popped out of the water, his red eyes flickering between Finland and Germany, making droplets of water shimmer on his white eyelashes. He spat the water out of his mouth at Germany's face then gave a satisfied smile of his own.  
This started a free-for-all water fight. Water flew into the air as Finland skimmed his palm over the top. Prussia sunk low into the water and franticly splashed water at the others. Germany used the discarded driftwood for a shield against the bombardment until Finland came up behind him and dunked his head under the water.  
Prussia jeered; pointing his finger mockingly at Germany who's hair was draped over his eyes.  
Germany glanced at Finland. They both nodded then turned towards Prussia.  
"Ach nein," Prussia murmured before fleeing farther down stream, but his pursuers quickly caught up to him. Germany attempted to shove his head under the water, but Prussia fought back, placing his feet in front of him and grabbing Germany's hands. He was holding his own until Finland came and forcefully submerged Prussia's face while Germany held his arms out of the way.  
"This is so not fair!" Prussia yelled between dunks.  
Sweden grabbed the blanket he was sitting on and began to walk away from the ongoing battle.  
"Hey, Mr. Sweden's leaving," Finland observed. They ceased the attack, all three of them watching him leave. Germany and Finland let go of Prussia and the squad advanced on Sweden.  
Sweden glanced back as they traversed up the slope. He grasped his book defensively as they surrounded him. "I don't want ta pl'y," he stated, clutching his book tighter.  
"You don't get a say-so in the matter," Prussia chuckled.  
Sweden, predicting the outcome, retreated from the battle, bolting towards the trees. But he didn't get far before Germany and Finland seized him by his arms and proceeded to drag him back towards the water.  
"Nej, gå bort! Lämna mig ifred!" he protested in Swedish, struggling fiercely.  
They dragged Sweden into the stream, making him drop his precious book in the water. "Låt gå! Låt gå!"  
Then, with Finland grabbing his feet and Germany securing his wrists, they swung him back and forth above the water.  
Germany began the count down. "Ein, zwei, drei!"  
The water sprayed outward as Sweden landed in the middle of the stream. He emerged with the clear water streaming down his clothes and droplets drizzling off his glasses.  
The three perpetrators laughed valiantly at their triumph, hollering in joy and excitement. Their laughter died as Sweden marched through the water, his head lowered menacingly and his sandy hair blanketing over his eyes.  
Sweden snatched his drifting book out of the water and walked past Finland and Prussia. When he passed Germany however, he paused, and his eyes slowly shifted to the side, gazing at him vacantly.  
Before Germany had the chance to react, Sweden seized his shoulders, knocked his feet from under him, and chucked him into the water.  
When Germany lifted his head above the water he expected to see Sweden's narrowed eyes glaring at him defiantly, but what he saw was a playful smirk and gleeful eyes.  
Sweden looked like a completely different person; the impenetrable barrier of seclusion was dissolved, leaving a radiant aura of happiness.  
"Attack!" Prussia yelled, causing the intensive battle to continue, but this time Sweden willingly joined the fight.

As night came, Germany started a fire a fair distance from the stream while Sweden went on one of his solitary excursions into the woods. After Germany got the fire going well, he left Finland and Prussia by the fire and went to get some more water.  
The nights were becoming colder now that they were traveling further south, so Germany brought his jacket along with him. When he approached the spring he saw Sweden sitting at the edge with his back towards Germany, washing his shirt in the steaming water.  
This was the first time Germany had ever seen Sweden without a long sleeved shirt, and now he knew why Sweden never removed it: Numerous scars covered the surface of his back and arms along with multiple burn marks etched along his sides. Some where jagged, others sharp and defined, a few of them recent.  
Sweden quickly noticed him, and glanced over his shoulder reservedly.  
Germany approached and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry about your book."  
"I nev'r got ta the endin'. Guess I'll have ta make up m' own."  
"If you don't mind, may I ask where you got those scars?" he inquired.  
"Old battl's," Sweden murmured, continuing to wash his shirt.  
He sounded like he was hiding something. Were the scars from Denmark perhaps? Finland did say that they fought a lot. "It must be hard fighting alone," Germany said, taking his eyes off the ground and glancing over at Sweden.  
Sweden returned with that vacant, doll-like stare, but there was something about the way his eyebrows raised that seemed to show that he was at least thinking about it. "Ja, it is," he finally muttered.  
"I'm not pretending to know what you've been through, but I want you to understand that I'll always be your friend. You can trust me." Germany held out his hand in a sign of friendship.  
Sweden looked at his outstretched hand in a sorrowful gaze. He looked confused and like he was arguing with himself on whether or not to accept, but his fingers hesitantly inched forward, then firmly grasped Germany's hand, a brief sigh of relief escaping his lips.  
Germany gave a pleasant smile, and he was happy to see that Sweden at least tried to return the favor.  
Germany got some water while Sweden finished washing his clothes and they both returned to camp. Germany handed out MRE's to everyone and they made hot chocolate with the water Germany brought back. Finland's had a pack of gum which he shared with the rest of them.  
They talked for a while until they began to get tired. Finland was assigned to keep watch, but Germany stayed awake, watching the embers burn down. He had learned to overlook the fact that Sweden and Finland had been allied with Denmark, and now trusted the two Nords, finally accepting Sweden as a friend.  
Germany, however, still knew nothing about Sweden; his interests, goals, ambitions, or preferences. The thing that bothered Germany the worst, was that he knew absolutely nothing about Sweden's personality. On the outside, Sweden seemed almost like a puppet; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind that vacant gaze.  
Over the past week, Germany had done all he could to find out more about Sweden–everything except asking Finland. He didn't see how Finland could know anything about the mysterious man when Germany had such a hard time reading him, but after hours of contemplating and when the others were fast asleep, he finally resigned, getting up to sit by Finland on the frozen ground.  
"Finland, I wanted to ask you something about Sweden," Germany said quietly.  
The young blonde turned his dazzling eyes Germany's direction. Behind their childish innocence hid a great understanding, but at the moment, Finland seemed reluctant and fearful, as if he didn't want to betray Sweden's secrets, whatever they may be.  
"I don't think that Mr. Sweden would appreciate me talking about him. He always likes to keep to himself," Finland said softly.  
"I understand that, but if I am going to work with him to bring down the Union of Kalmar, then I want to know more about him," Germany replied.  
The brilliant eyes closed and Finland sighed heavily.  
"If you want to know about Sweden, you first have to learn about his past. I feel guilty telling you this, but I guess that you deserve to hear it." Finland readjusted his position on the grass and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.  
"When I first saw Sweden, I was scared of him. He seemed overpowering and aggressive; he was much taller then me, and he seemed so imposing and cruel. This was back when all the Nords joined together to form a franchise. I had met the other Nords, Iceland and Norway, they seemed friendly on the outside, but I could tell that they were inwardly cruel and selfish.  
"I thought that Sweden would be the same way, but when he turned around and noticed me, he gave the most sincere smile. His eyes were gentle and passionate, almost like a caring father or loyal friend, full of life and compassion. He was so kindhearted and playful, I could see that from the way he looked at me.  
"Sweden was very quiet; hardly ever talked, only listened. Him and Mr. Denmark were best friends: They supported each other, and cared for another, they did everything together. Back then, Sweden was always smiling, always happy. He would spend time just listening to me and the other Nords. When I gave him the plans for the next product he would always compliment on my design. He always went out of his way to help us and somehow got all his work done as well.  
"It seemed perfect. We all worked together, it was always lots of fun and everything was working out well, but then everything changed.  
"Denmark changed." Finland's voice carried a tone of resentment as his face darkened.  
"He cared only for power and domination. He tried to take control of everything and thought that he should be in charge. Sweden started to get annoyed with Denmark's self proclaimed superiority. He tried to talk to Denmark about it, tried to get him to change, but Denmark never listened. He would just shoot down Sweden's accusations with some humorous comment.  
"Then Sweden just stopped smiling, and the kind light in his eyes faded, leaving the disapproving glare that he always has now. Soon they started arguing about everything, whenever they were in the same room they were at each other's throats.  
"Then the most terrifying thing happened: they just stopped." Finland paused bitting his lip as if the memory still haunted him. Germany placed a hand on his shoulder and after a deep breath, the young blonde continued.  
"No more bickering, no more fighting, they wouldn't even look at each other. Denmark spent all his time with Norway and Iceland, leaving Sweden alone.  
"I had no clue what to do about it. I tried to help, but they just ignored me. Denmark didn't think that there was a problem and Sweden thought that he could handle it alone. I felt so worthless, like nothing I did ever made a difference.  
"I was so scared. It got to the point were Denmark would hurt Sweden whenever something went wrong, just take all his anger out on him. No matter how bad it got, Sweden would never strike back. I think that he still hoped that things could go back to the way they were." Finland stopped as he began chocking back tears.  
"I should have...done something more. I still feel guilty when I...remember all those times he passed by me, and I never said a word."  
Finland hid his face in the blanket, and wiped his tears on his sleeve. Germany hesitantly reached over placed his arm on Finland's back, then the young child clung to him in a tight hug, gently shaking with sobs. Germany recoiled slightly, but slowly relaxed, allowing Finland to continue hugging him.  
"Please Germany, please help Sweden. I couldn't do anything, but maybe you can. Mr. Sweden is still a very kind person, he's just to scared to show it. He thinks that if he opens up his heart to someone, he'll just get burned like he did with Denmark. Please, prove him wrong. Show him that he can trust people. Please."  
Germany didn't answer, he just held Finland until he fell asleep. Suddenly all his problems seemed to be irrelevant: Italy's strange habits, Britain's bad food, America's unhealthy diet. Sweden had much bigger problems then figuring out how to make France and Britain stop arguing.  
He carefully placed Finland on the ground, wrapping the blanket around him again, then returned to his bedroll where he silently kept watch, covered in his wool blanket to stave off the cold.


	12. Chapter 11: Golden Hatred

Sweden relieved his memories as he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were so vivid, that he had a hard time figuring out if he was asleep or not; but as he entered a familiar, softly lighted room, he quickly realized that he was being forced back into the time loop that he got trapped in every night.  
In his dream, Sweden walked confidently forward, greeting Denmark with a firm handshake.  
"Glad you made it!" Denmark exclaimed, patting Sweden on the back. His extravagant blonde hair bounced as he beamed joyfully. Sweden remained pleasantly silent and lightly smiled back. "Hold on for a sec, I left the papers in the other room."  
Sweden watched him leave, then turned to see a young child standing at the entrance. He was wearing light, blue-green clothes and had a white beret atop his smooth golden hair. The child's violet eyes looked at him fearfully, but they instantly brightened when Sweden presented a warm smile.  
The child shyly retreated out the doorway when Denmark returned, with a folder of papers in his hand.  
"Who was dat?" Sweden asked Denmark.  
"Him? That's Finland. Now, let's get to work," Denmark remarked, holding the folder out to Sweden.  
"Yah work?" Sweden teased. "I'm de one dat's goin' ta end up doin' everyt'ing."  
Denmark laughed, his pleasant young voice reverberating loudly in the small room. "That's only because you enjoy working."  
Their laughs rang in glorious harmony, filling the room with a song like quality.  
The scene shifted, and the pleasant recollection was cut short by the flash of metal crashing against Sweden's skull. He fell to the ground, tentatively wiping away the trickle of blood dripping from his mouth, smearing his hand red from the wrist down to the knuckles. He watched as the blood slid between his fingers and fell off his fingertips.  
The blood looked a devilish black in the dark, spacious room, where the only light came from the distant doorway.  
Denmark towered over him, the bottom half of a broken lamp stand clutched tightly in his gloved hands, blood dripping down the golden surface. All the hatred that Denmark fostered towards Sweden was reflected in his harsh, sapphire eyes.  
Denmark drove the broken end of the lamp stand into Sweden's leg as he scrambled away.  
Sweden's mouth opened in a silent scream of agony as he ripped the metal out of his leg and threw it away. He looked up at his old friend passively, Norway and Iceland were positioned at the side of the room as they observed the spectacle.  
Denmark grabbed Sweden's shoulder and threw him into the large mahogany table. "What's wrong with you!" he shouted in undeniable hatred. He reeled his leg back and struck Sweden in the jaw with every ounce of strength he could muster, sending the larger man crashing to the ground.  
"Don't you care that everything's falling apart?" Denmark shouted. "Say something! Aren't you mad at me? Don't you feel anything?" His voice cracked on the last words. He swallowed as he tried vainly to regain his composure. He looked down at Sweden in confusion and waited for a response, but he remained silent.  
"You're a freak! A sick twisted freak!"  
Denmark stormed out of the room, Norway and Iceland following. Iceland cast back a sorrowful glance as he exited the room, but was quickly drawn back to Norway like a magnet.  
Sweden watched them leave with the beginnings of tears in his eyes. Not from the pain, or the ridicule, but from the hopeless feeling of abandonment. The one person he admired and would have followed to the ends of the earth, had completely rejected him, and despised him. Denmark was the perfect friend; helpful, exciting, pleasant, accepting, attentive.  
What happened?  
A shadow fell upon Sweden as a figure returned to the doorway. Sweden didn't bother to face his attacker, he was completely resigned to any kind of physical punishment, and waited patiently for it. No slice of the blade could amount to the torture he felt deep within his chest.  
When no one entered, Sweden's head snapped upwards, glaring at the intruder. He was surprised to see that it was Finland who stood in the doorway this time, fear shinning through wide violet eyes. Blood dripped down one side of his head and stained his collar. The child hesitated, then bolted out the door.  
Sweden held out his hand to stop him, and opened his mouth to beg him to come back, but it was too late.  
Alone. Alone again.  
Maybe he really was a freak. Finland looked at him like he was some sort of monster. It was him against the world, and the world hated him. He had done many things that he regretted, but he thought that he had done enough to redeem himself. Apparently not. Fate would never let him outrun his bloodstained past.  
The reoccurring crash of the lamp woke him from his dream, sending all those emotions to the back of his mind to be brought back another terrible night.

The hellish nightmare ended and Sweden returned to reality where he lay covered in cold sweat on the frozen ground. His head was throbbing in pain as if the metal had cracked against his skull only moments ago. He sat up and shakily and raised his hand to where the scar still remained, hidden beneath the thin strands of sandy-blonde hair.  
The wound was healed, but the pain still remained.  
Sweden looked over at Finland who was sleeping beside him. He instinctively passed his hand through his smooth hair, feeling the scar underneath. Every time he stroked Finland's hair and felt that scar it reminded of that night. Sweden never meant to frighten him, and didn't blame him for running away. Sometimes, when Finland looked at him, he felt that Finland had never forgiven himself.  
The crack of a broken branch sounded in the forest, instantly drawing Sweden's attention. Looking back at Germany, who was still asleep, he decided to investigate it alone. Quietly slipping on his overcoat on top of his black collared shirt, he grabbed the iron rod that they used to stir the fire. Sweden was more confidant with melee weapons. Besides, a gun was too loud, he preferred silent killing. Not that he expected to find anything.  
Sweden proceeded further into the dense woods, avoiding the dry leaves and walking only where there was grass or rocks to step on.  
There was a gentle scrape of something against a tree that was only a few feet away from Sweden. He shifted his weight forward, preparing to attack the intruder, but something made him hesitate. The sound was too harsh, like it was made intentionally.  
Sweden paused, cautiously scanning the area, listening to the voices of the night, trying to find the separate sounds: the chirping of crickets, the rustle of the wind. A soft breath of air whispered right beside his ear. Gradually turning his head towards the sound, his eyes caught the glimmer of reflected moonlight in a gap between the leaves.  
The forest exploded as a darkened figure launched itself out of the trees. Sweden collapsed to the ground as the shadow landed on him, pressing Sweden's iron rod against his windpipe.  
Sweden thought he was trapped in another nightmare. That was the only explanation for the ferocious creature poised above him with dull, lifeless eyes.  
"Traitor! Scoundrel! You worthless excuse of a man!" the malicious voice hissed quietly, like a pulsating chant.  
"Norway," Sweden wheezed, finally recognizing his former comrade.  
"Silence," Norway demanded. "You don't have the right to talk you backstabbing wretch! We Nordics are supposed to stick together. It's us against the world. But you and that aching heart of yours just had to sick with the Germans. You're weak! You've forgotten how to kill. What happened to the Swede who killed a man for a can of fish?"  
Sweden's only reply was a soft grunt, his ribs compacted under Norway's knee.  
"What I'm more astonished by is how could you be foolish enough to think that we wouldn't find you. Iceland knew from the moment you left the German's motel that you had betrayed us. 'How' you ask? Because you actually answered his questions."  
Norway gave a light chuckle as Sweden gasped for air. Norway forced all his weight on the thin rod, silencing Sweden's complaints.  
"You can't escape us. Frankly, I'm surprised with your carelessness. You covered your tracks well in London, but taking the ferry was your first mistake. Iceland effortlessly tracked you through the city: the blankets you bought in Sangatte, the repair shop where you fixed your glasses, the Swedish book you got from the pawn shop. After that, I had the pleasure of following your excursions through the woods. You might as well have been painting your paths red. You didn't expect me to be with Iceland did you? Well, I take care of my friends. Unlike you."  
Sweden's fist suddenly collided with Norway's face. Rolling over, Sweden ripped a knife from his belt, holding it against his throat.  
"If you kill me, then Iceland is going to fillet the skin off your precious friends. He's got a fix on your camp, and if I don't return, he's going to kill all of them." Norway's voice held no fear, he didn't sound even remotely worried. He was taunting him. Daring him to kill.  
"I 'ave no intenti'n of harming yah or Iceland. I'm still part of de Union," Sweden said calmly, the knife relaxing in his grasp.

Germany had his back pinned against a tree, sweat dripping down his face. He was lying awake on his bedroll when Sweden awoke. He had waited until Sweden was out of sight before following him into the woods. When he found Sweden, he was kneeling on top of another Nord who was wearing sharp, dark blue, naval clothes. Germany assumed that it was Norway because of his sailor clothes and the cross dangling from his cap.  
Germany had instinctively hid behind a tree and was just close enough to make out what Sweden said: "I am still part of the Union."  
Germany was now frozen in place with terror and uncertainty. He's lying, Germany told himself, justifying his friend's actions. It's just to fool Norway. But another explanation floated to the surface of Germany's mind. Norway's not the one he's deceiving. It's you. He quickly suppressed the thought. It was impossible, Sweden was on their side. Right?  
Sweden's calm voice stared again, disrupting the silence in the tranquil forest. "I figur'd dat de only way ta successfully take down de Germans an' take their resources was ta trick dem. Make dem th'nk dat I was on deir side. Why else would I 'ave made it so easy for yah ta follow me?"  
"And what reason do I have to trust you?" Norway asked calmly.  
"Because I'm leading de Germans ta A'stria. Meet m' there, an' we will make our move." Sweden removed the blade from Norway's throat and stepped away from him. "Yah three need ta get there befor' we do."  
"So Finland is in on this too?" Norway asked.  
" 'e was un'nformed. 'e just does what I say. Now get goin'. Le've de Germans ta me."  
Norway scowled, and looked like he was about to argue, but decided to cooperate as Sweden twisted the knife in his hand. He got to his feet and vanished into the woods, glancing over his shoulder.  
While Sweden was watching Norway, Germany retreated, moving as fast and trying desperately to soften the sound of his boots striking the ground.  
No! This can't be happening! Germany silently raved. I trusted him! He was my friend! Why? Why did it have to be this way?  
Germany stopped at the edge of camp, trying to catch his breath. He scanned the surrounding area but found no sign of any intruders. He walked forward and kneeled on the ground next to his brother. He stroked Prussia's silver hair, listening to his steady breathing.  
"I promise, I won't let anything happen to you," Germany whispered. He lifted his gaze to see the small form of Finland curled up in a thick blanket. Sweden betrayed you as well, Germany thought, looking tenderly at the young man. I guess it's now my responsibility to protect you as well.  
The soft shuffling of feet came from the forest. Germany hurriedly returned to his bed with a pistol hidden beneath the covers, his back towards the fire.  
Sweden emerged from the trees, taking his place by the fire to guard the camp.  
I should just kill him now, save myself the trouble later. But the gun stayed stationary in Germany's hand. He just couldn't shoot a man in the back like that, no matter how vile of a person he was.  
Germany stayed awake throughout the night, preparing himself in case Sweden decided to kill them ahead of schedule.


	13. Chapter 12: Sleigh Ride

"I th'nk we should 'ire a carriage," Sweden suggested as they finished packing up camp in the morning sun.  
"Why would we do that?" Germany asked, eager for Sweden's explanation.  
"Cause we're tired of walking!" Prussia spat, folding his bedroll tightly.  
"Yeah," Finland agreed enthusiastically. "That way we can get more sleep, and Prussia can recover faster!"  
"Hey! I am just fine, thank you," Prussia retorted. "I can keep walking. I'll walk all the way to Poland!"  
"No one is doubting your abilities," Germany stated bluntly. "The problem is; how are we supposed to convince someone to take us all the way to Rome? We don't have much money left."  
The group waited for a moment, looking at each other expectantly.  
"We could always steal one," Prussia said, breaking the silence.  
"That's not very nice, it's Christmas time. I don't want to steal someone's horses," Finland protested.  
"That may be the only way," Germany said. He looked over at Sweden for his opinion, but he remained silent. Germany sighed in resignation. "There's a town south of here, we will get a carriage there."  
"So, we're really going to steal one? Just think about how upset the owner will be when he finds out that his horses are missing." Finland looked at Sweden for support, but the other avoided his gaze.  
"We have to," Germany told Finland thoughtfully. "Now let's get going."  
It took them roughly an hour to get to the town, and another thirty minutes to find someone with horses and a carriage. They found a young man with a wagon and followed him to a large farm house away from town.  
The four of them hid around a corner, scooping out the area. The stable boy had just finished putting away the harnesses and was now going inside the house.  
"That's not a carriage," Prussia said in disappointment. The wagon was wooden but looked very study. It was large–probably used for hauling hay–and had a seat up front for the driver. The back was flat with high walls and had plenty of room for passengers and luggage.  
"Alright, I will get the wagon ready," Germany whispered.  
"I will get de 'orses," Sweden added. "Finland, yah kan get de 'arnesses ready."  
"Prussia you…just stay here," Germany ordered.  
"Wha–" Prussia started, but the three were already dispersing, running into the stable to fulfill their duties. Prussia stubbornly folded his arms and sat on the dead grass.  
Sweden grabbed a bucket of grain and two halters then headed into the corral. The two massive Clydesdales warily watched him approach. Sweden steadily walked forward with the grain extended towards them. One plodded forward and nibbled at the grain; the other quickly followed.  
Sweden spoke to them calmly as he secured the halters over their noses. While he brought them out of the corral Finland was tossing the large duffle bags up to Germany who stood in the back of the weather-worn wagon.  
When he saw Sweden coming, Finland gave Germany the last bag then helped Sweden put the harnesses on the Clydesdales and hook them up to the wagon.  
"Oi! Someone's coming!" Prussia said in a harsh whisper  
"Get over here!" Germany demanded.  
Finland placed a small wad of cash on the table before running to the back of the wagon.  
After getting Prussia into the back, Sweden helped Finland get in as well. "I'll drive," Sweden stated. Germany was about to protest, but Sweden was already hopping into the front seat. The instant Germany heaved himself into the wagon, Sweden flicked the reins and the horses charged forward, almost throwing Germany out the back.  
"Sorry!" Finland called back at the stable boy, who was in a momentary state of shock after almost getting run over by the horses.  
"Sit down," Sweden told Finland, worried that he might fall out as the wagon lurched over the jagged road. He didn't slow down until the farm house was out of sight, and even then he kept the horses moving at a slow trot.  
Finland watched as the spacious fields swept past them, the evening sun gently illuminating the waving wheat. He tiled his head to the side, enjoying the fresh air that carried the sharp, enjoyable smell of the horses and weaved through his golden hair  
"Do you want me to take over?" Germany asked Sweden, leaning over the side of the wagon.  
"No. I'm goin' ta let de horses drink at de river ahead, den we will contin'e through de night."  
"Alright," Germany replied. "Whatever you think is best." Germany was still aware of the threat that Sweden now posed, and was determined to not let him lead them into a trap. Sweden still didn't know that Germany heard his conversation with Norway, and Germany wanted to keep it that way until Sweden led him to Denmark. Then he could dispose of them all at once.  
Germany still couldn't believe that Sweden had been acting that whole time. Every smile, every kind word, every helping hand, they were all false. Given only to deceive them further. Well, it worked. Germany had truly believed that Sweden was his friend, and that he really did want independence from Denmark.  
That's what made his betrayal so hard to bear.  
After Sweden let the horses rest, they loaded back into the trailer with Sweden driving although Germany had discreetly protested. When Sweden insisted on driving, Germany decided to stay up through the night to make sure that Sweden took them directly to Rome.  
The air grew steadily colder throughout the night and Germany found it hard not to fall asleep; the faint wind whisking over the hills was soothing, and the thick quilt kept him pleasurably warm. He found himself drifting off to sleep a few times, and when he awoke he would franticly check his surrounds, worried that he would find himself being taken down some obscure road. Nevertheless, every time he looked up, he would see the peaceful Italian countryside there to greet him.  
By morning, Germany was even more on edge from lack of sleep, and discreetly watched Sweden's every move.  
Sweden took very good care of the two horses: cleaned their hooves, gave them plenty of water, and let them graze regularly. He acted no different, as if the event a few nights ago had never happened. As if it had been nothing but a vivid dream.  
Germany started a small fire and boiled a pot of water over the flames. He got four cups and a container of chocolate powder and mixed it in. After cleaning the horses hooves, Sweden ambled over, sitting on the ground and grabbing one of the cups of hot chocolate.  
"Good morning Sweden," Germany said with false politeness.  
"Yes, it is mornin', why do ya ask?" Sweden stated groggily, wrapping his frozen fingers around the plastic cup.  
"Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea for you to continue driving."  
Sweden looked up at him, a puzzled look on his face.  
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"  
Sweden flinched and spilled half of his cup on his pants. He looked over his shoulder and saw Finland standing in the back of the wagon, hands held high into the air.  
"What?" Germany asked, rubbing his bleary eyes.  
"It's Christmas!" Finland repeated, hopping down from the bed of the wagon and gently landing on the frosted grass. "Here, put this gum in the cocoa and it will make it all minty. Like Christmas!" Finland handed a piece of gum to everyone, and they each dropped it in their cups.  
"This is a lame way to spend Christmas," Prussia said. Sweden and Germany nodded their heads in agreement.  
"What makes you say that? I think this is a wonderful way to spend Christmas," Finland said.  
"How is this a good way to spend Christmas?" Prussia blurted. "We are running for our lives, almost out of food, freezing cold, and sleeping in a wagon. All of this and not a single bottle of beer! How could this possibly be considered wonderful?"  
"Well, we're together. I don't know about you guys, but I couldn't ask for anything more." Everyone's gloomy faces slowly brightened as Finland beamed happily.  
"Yeah, you're right," Prussia admitted, slapping Germany on the back and making him choke on his mouthful of cocoa. "But beer would make things better."  
Germany smiled and nodded in agreement, wiping the cocoa off his lips.  
They finished their breakfast of bread and crackers, then started cleaning up camp with Finland's Christmas songs accompanying them as they were loading up the wagon.  
"Oi West! When do I get to drive?" Prussia shouted, effectively disrupting the pleasant mood.  
"Never," Germany stated, standing in the back and offering his hand down to his brother. Prussia reluctantly grabbed his hand and Germany hoisted him into the wagon, but Prussia promptly ran to the front and jumped into the driver's seat.  
"I can do anything! Just you watch, I'll get us there before nightfall! Hmm, is this how you make them move?" Prussia muttered, grabbing one of the reins. He flicked the rein lightly, but the horses merely gazed back at him. "Move! Move, I demand it!" One of the horses snorted and turned away.  
"Brother, let me drive," Germany said, placing a hand on Prussia's shoulder.  
"Nein!" Prussia yelled, pushing his hand away. "I am awesome! I'll get these horses moving. Go away West! I don't need your help!"  
"Brother please," Germany pleaded, joining Prussia on the bench and grabbing the other rein. Prussia snatched it away and shoved Germany to the other side.  
"All aboard!" Prussia yelled. "The train's leaving the station!"  
"Better get in," Germany told the Nords who were watching the spectacle from below. "Just in case he finds out how to make them move."  
Sweden had just helped Finland into the back when Prussia flashed a villainous smile, his bright red eyes full of mischief.  
"HYAH!" Prussia howled, snapping the reins against the horses backs.  
The horses blotted forward, sending gravel flying, and churning up the packed dirt. Their compact muscles bulged as they pounded their large hooves against the ground, their powerful hindquarters propelling them forward.  
Sweden dangled helplessly on the high wall of the wagon, trying desperately to pull himself in. His feet skimmed the ground, shredding the ends of his boots and pulling him farther off the side.  
"Mr. Sweden, hold on!" Finland called, stretching his hand out to Sweden. Sweden took one of his hands off the side to reach for Finland's, but the wagon jolted, sending him crashing to the ground.  
Sweden landed on his back with nothing to suppress his fall. His eyes were open, but he only saw a black expanse as his lungs strained for air.  
"Mr. Sweden!" Finland cried out to Sweden, who lay unmoving on the dirt road.  
Germany looked back, a smile on his face. Serves him right; Filthy traitor. But his smile faded instantly as he gazed into Finland's tearful eyes. Sweden's acts of kindness may have been false, but there was no doubt of Finland's sincerity.  
Germany pushed Prussia aside, ignoring his protests. He pulled back on the reins gradually and spoke calmly to the Clydesdales. They eventually slowed their pace then came to a stop, breathing harshly.  
Finland vaulted over the side and ran down the road to where Sweden still lay.  
"Huh? What's going on?" Prussia asked, completely oblivious that he had lost a passenger.  
Finland called out Sweden's name as he ran. He never answered. Germany ran after Finland, but didn't catch up to him until he stopped beside Sweden.  
"Mr. Sweden, are you okay?" Finland asked. Sweden replied with a painful groan as he forced his lungs to work.  
Germany sat beside Finland and held three fingers in front of Sweden's eyes. "How many fingers?" he asked Sweden.  
Sweden blinked rapidly and looked over the top of his glasses. "Två?" he guessed, his vision still partially blackened.  
"Close enough." Germany pulled Sweden into a sitting position and handed him a bottle of water.  
"Mr. Sweden are you hurt?" Finland asked, grasping his hand.  
"No, I'm fine. Dis not de first time I've fallen off en horse." Sweden gladly accepted the bottle from Germany and drank some of it.  
"You're bleeding," Finland said as he saw the back of Sweden's hair stained red.  
Germany parted Sweden's hair and noticed a small cut on his scalp. "He's fine," Germany told Finland. "He just landed on a small rock."  
"That's an awful lot of blood for a small rock," Finland observed.  
"Head wounds bleed en lot," Sweden stated, getting to his feet.  
"Mr. Sweden, I don't think you should be standing up yet," Finland told him gently.  
"Hey, take it easy," Germany told Sweden, helping him up the rest of the way.  
"Re'lly, I'm okay. Yah two needn't worry," Sweden told them. He shrugged them off and took a step forward only to fall back to the ground.  
"You call that okay? You can barely walk!" Germany said.  
"I'll be fine," Sweden insisted as Finland helped him to his feet.  
Germany slung Sweden's arm over his shoulder to support him as they walked back to the wagon. He felt strange helping his enemy. All his instincts told him to kill the traitor right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to kill Sweden while Finland was watching.  
Every time Finland looked at Sweden, Germany could see admiration and concern in his delicate eyes. His resentment grew even stronger for Sweden when he thought of how he betrayed Finland  
Germany couldn't imagine what kind of treacherous and heartless person could abandon such a innocent young man for someone as selfish as Denmark.  
"Ha! Was my awesome driving too much for you?" Prussia greeted them. "You losers were just so amazed that you fell right out of your seat! Yes, I know, I just can't help it."  
"Get out," Finland said, interrupting his speech.  
"Huh?"  
"I said get out! You hurt Mr. Sweden!"  
"Well, it's not like I did it on purpose," Prussia said, clearly offended. He was about to make an audacious remark, but the look in Finland's eyes convinced him to keep his mouth shut. He immediately abandoned his life's goal of getting Finland enraged, and slid off the wagon bench. "You don't look injured," he said to Sweden, getting right up in his face.  
"I'm not," Sweden said truthfully.  
"Ah, then no harm done! Let's get going." Prussia began to scramble up into the driver seat, but Germany ripped him down.  
"Nein," Germany stated bluntly.  
"But–"  
"No!"  
Prussia stuck his tongue out at Germany and returned to the back of the wagon where the others were already waiting.  
As soon as Germany got the horses moving and the others got settled, Finland took a wet cloth and began dabbing the back of Sweden's head. Sweden accepted the compassionate gesture, but gave no reaction.  
Even though Sweden had just gotten injured, Finland couldn't help being mesmerized by the sheer power and strength of the Clydesdales. It would be a dream come true if he could one day ride on the back of a galloping horse through an open field. But Finland had never been on a horse, and it seemed impossible that he would ever be confidant enough to ride like that.  
"Mr. Sweden, can you teach me how to ride a horse sometime?" Finland asked, eager to break the silence.  
"Ja, sure," Sweden said stiffly.  
Finland smiled as Sweden glanced over at him, but there was something troubling hidden beneath his eyes. Was it sorrow? Regret? Finland couldn't tell, but he knew that Sweden was hiding something.  
Sweden never hid stuff from him! Why was he acting so strange? He wasn't nervous was he? It didn't look like it. He seemed to be wound up in his thoughts and completely ignored Finland as he offered him a water bottle. Sweden was never like that. He was always very conscious of his surroundings and stayed alert all the time. What was wrong with him?  
The wagon rattled for a moment, and Finland got a better look at Sweden's eyes. He then recognized the overwhelming emotion flooding Sweden's thoughts: Guilt.  
What would he feel guilty about? Was it because they were leaving Denmark? No, that wasn't it. Sweden was fine earlier, this was something else. He seemed like he was planning something, something that he didn't want Finland to know about.  
He couldn't possibly be considering turning the Germans over to Denmark could he? No, Sweden would never do that! Germany finally trusted him, he wouldn't throw away their newly developed friendship just for Denmark. No, Sweden would never do that. Before Finland knew Sweden, he was a viking. He was ruthless and unforgiving. He killed people and betrayed his friends daily. but he wasn't that type of person anymore. He had changed. Hadn't he?  
Now that Finland thought about it, it didn't seem so absurd.  
Even though Sweden and Denmark hadn't been getting along lately, they were once very close. They had a strong connection although neither of them noticed. It was bizarre how well they understood each others thoughts even though they were polar opposites. They both insisted that they hate each other, but it was clear that they were closer then Finland could ever hope to be.  
Finland wanted to ask Sweden, or at least talk to him, but for once he couldn't think of anything to say. He felt so betrayed, and hurt, that he couldn't manage to move his jaw. The words were sitting on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn't move past his lips.  
Sweden, I don't know who you are anymore...


	14. Chapter 13: Betrayal

As the sun sunk lower behind the mountains, the snow started to fall, and Germany's resolve began to weaken. He could barely keep his eyes open as the horses plodded on through the night. He desperately wanted to return to his corner at the front of the wagon and have Sweden drive, but he knew that the instant he laid down, he would be fast asleep and Sweden would be free to take them straight to Denmark.  
The reins slipped further out of Germany's grasp, he lucidly slumped in the seat, his heavy head steadily dipping down.  
"Oi West."  
Germany jolted awake as a hand touched his shoulder. "Oh, Prussia," he greeted his brother. "Do you need something?"  
"It looked to me like you fell asleep there."  
"Huh? No I was just resting my eyes for a moment."  
"You're exhausted, admit it." Prussia sat down on the bench and calmly glanced up at Germany. "Why not let me drive?" he asked, extending his hand towards the reins.  
"No way. Not after the stunt you pulled earlier today," Germany replied.  
Prussia looked disappointed and returned his hand to his lap.  
"I… I'm sorry."  
"What?" Germany asked in astonishment. Prussia always did stupid things, but never before had he apologized when his crazy stunts went wrong.  
"You want me to say it again? I'm. Sorry. I shouldn't have done it, I know that it was irresponsible, but I didn't imagine that someone besides me would have gotten hurt!"  
Germany chuckled. Typical Prussia: not giving a single thought to how his schemes would effect others.  
"I won't do it again! I promise!" Prussia pleaded. "Now, let me drive so you can go to sleep."  
"I really shouldn't…"  
"Germany, will you please let me do some big brother stuff for once?"  
Germany looked into Prussia's eyes, and couldn't help but think of his duty to protect his brother. It was hard to think of Prussia as the responsible one, but as Germany gazed at his brother's tranquil face, he found himself placing the reins into Prussia's pale hand.  
"See, that wasn't so hard. Now get some rest," Prussia commanded mildly.  
Germany nodded, and left Prussia to guide the horses along the dusty road. He took Prussia's place, laying down on the warm blankets. He let himself become lost in the realm of dreams; wandering forbidden paths, and finding priceless treasure. A realm of adventure and confinement. Creation and destruction. He was gently lifted away, lulled into security by gentle waves and surrounded by the wistful songs of birds.

The ground erupted. The wagon split; planks of wood snapping into shards and splinters. Germany rolled onto the ground as the wagon flipped, crashing onto the side of the road. He searched the scene to see if anyone had gotten hurt. Finland was right next to him, Sweden and Prussia were next to the cart. They looked unharmed, but Finland was crumpled on the ground and clutching his leg.  
"How bad is it?" Germany asked, twisting to look at Finland's leg.  
Finland didn't answer, so Germany reached over and gently moved his hands, revealing . There was a large gash on his thigh. He handed him a handkerchief and told him to keep pressure on the wound.  
"What was that?" Finland asked..  
His question went unanswered as Germany got to his feet. Sweden ran forward, ripped a knife form the nearest bag and ran towards the horses. He severed the straps that connected the harnesses to the wagon and the horses galloped away.  
"What was that?" Finland yelled.  
His question went unanswered as Germany got to his feet. Sweden ran forward, ripped a knife form the nearest bag and ran towards the horses. He severed the straps that connected the harnesses to the wagon and the horses galloped away.  
"What happened?" Germany screamed at Prussia. "What happened?" he repeated.  
"I didn't do anything! The ground exploded! Like there was a mine or something!" Prussia yelled back.  
"Prussia, stay here and take care of Finland! Sweden and I will search the woods. Gather up our stuff, and stay off the road!"  
Sweden put the knife in his belt then went to the underside of the wagon. He tore off part of the axle, a long black staff almost as tall as him. "I'm ready," Sweden stated.  
Germany grabbed a revolver and spun the cylindrical chamber. "Let's go."  
In his anger, Germany forgot that Sweden's loyalties were divided, and walked in front of him. They searched along the road side, then proceeded into the snow covered woods. The snow was falling heavily, covering any trace of their footprints.  
"There's no one here!" Germany yelled, kicking the nearest tree.  
"Per'aps de bomb was planted en long time ago, an' dey 'ave already left?" Sweden suggested.  
"I suppose that's possible. We should–"  
Germany was interrupted by a loud cry that echoed through the night.  
"Prussia." Germany sprinted towards the road, leaving Sweden stumbling after him.  
"Germany! Germany wait! It kould be en trap!"  
Germany ignored him as he tore through the forest, stumbling over roots and hitting into branches. "Prussia! Prussia, I'm coming!"  
Sweden's cries faded as Germany ran farther ahead. His only focus was finding his brother, and killing whoever dared hurt him. He erupted from the trees and ran down the road to find the abandoned wagon on fire.  
The flames shot into the sky, a deadly warning from the Union of Kalmar.  
He ran behind the burning wagon. The supplies were gone and there was no sign of Prussia or Finland.  
Germany clutched his head in anguish. He lifted his eyes and searched the skies; looking for a way to turn back time. They remained silent, leaving Germany as confused and angry as before.  
Sweden rushed around the wagon and was met with a fist to the jaw. He collapsed on the ground blood dribbled down his chin, and Sweden wiped it away on the back of his hand. The familiar blood etched down his hand, slid between his fingers, and fell to the ground.  
Germany towered over him, a silver gun clutched in his hand. The red flames flickered over his face, creating eerie shadows and turning his eyes into burning coals.  
Sweden heard the distant ranting of a lost friend. The gruesome accusations falling upon deaf ears. He hunched submissively, accepting the next sequence of attacks.  
But they never came.  
Sweden took his eyes off the ground and began listening to the words directed at him.  
"Traitor! Scoundrel!" Germany screamed. "How dare you turn against us! I trusted you! Finland trusted you! I thought changed, I thought you really cared about us. Now look what you've done. My brother is probably dead right now, and it's all because of you! How could you betray us like that? And for what? For Denmark? The man that treated you like a dog? How could you abandon us like that? How?"  
Pain. Fear. Loneliness. Germany's eyes held no malice, only sorrow. The sorrow of losing something precious, and irreplaceable. The sorrow of losing a friend.  
The gun shifted in Germany's hand as it zeroed in on Sweden's forehead, the silver surface reflecting the moonlight. It shook as Germany's finger found the trigger, preparing to kill the man that endangered his only brother. A single tear slipped down his cheek.  
"I can't do it," Germany said in a flat voice, lowering the gun. "I can't stoop to your level. I'd rather not join you in hell, but if I ever see you again, I will kill you. I'll gladly accept eternal torture as long as I take you with me."  
Sweden painfully watched as Germany ran into the night, his misguided words still hanging in the air.  
Germany got it all wrong, those were never his intentions, Sweden never could have even thought about turning them over to Denmark. That was the last thing he ever wanted. This whole time, all he wanted to do was protect them. He'd been trying to lead them away from Denmark. How could it all go so horribly wrong?  
Sweden wanted to say something to keep Germany from leaving; to tell him the truth. But the words never passed his frozen lips.


	15. Chapter 14: WInter

Sweden aimlessly wandered through the woods, the snow falling in thick sheets in front of him. Which way to go? Denmark, or Germany? He didn't want to betray either of them, but he somehow managed to hurt them both. He wanted so badly to follow Denmark, but he just couldn't let him hurt Germany or Prussia.  
He was hoping that he could lead the Germans to safety, then confront Denmark on his own. It had just escalated into a web of unspoken lies that ruined every chance he had of fixing things.  
He had been set on killing the Germans, that is until France tried to do so. Sweden had seen enough death in his lifetime, and he didn't want there to be any more. After that, he gradually began to feel increasingly guilty for even thinking about tricking his friends. When Germany was helping him back to the wagon, the guilt climbed even higher. At that point he couldn't even imagine wanting to hurt them. Then the problem was tricking Denmark, which he didn't want to do either.  
Sweden's eyelids refused to stay open. He tried closing them just for a few seconds, but then ended up stumbling in the deep snow. He found a tree with large roots and sat down on one. He promised himself that he would only rest for a moment, but as soon as his eyes closed, they refused to open. He thought that it would be best if they never opened again. The world would be a better place if he wasn't in it.  
Everything good in his life was being snatched away: his friends, his family, even his home. His friends' words found their way to the surface of his mind and sounded in his ears:  
You pathetic excuse of a man!  
What's wrong with you? You're a freak! A sick twisted freak!  
Traitor! Scoundrel!

* * *

Germany tromped through the deep snow. Everything had happened so fast, he thought he had more time. He should have killed Sweden days ago. Now he had no supplies, only one gun, and his brother was in danger. He had been following the faint tracks in the snow all night and most of the day. It was impossible to keep up with these darn Nords.  
Cresting a large hill, Germany saw a building between the trees. It looked like it was once a prison but had been abandoned long ago. It had tall, stone walls with ivy and moss which covered the bars on the windows. Sparse trees surrounded the building, but other then that, the place seemed barren.  
He paused, still hidden in the trees; scoping out the area for any sign of Denmark and the others.  
Germany prepared his gun, extracting the cylinder and checking each chamber, then dashed to the front door. He kicked the door open, the wood splintering at the handle. He darted inside, and was standing in what seemed like a waiting room. A desk was at one side, wooden chairs on the other.  
Muffled cries sounded from the back room, forcing Germany into a run. He shoved open a wooden door to reveal a line of cells in front of him. He quickly ran to his right where he heard someone kicking the bars.  
When Germany got there he saw Finland, bound and gaged. He lifted his gun and fired two shots at the metal lock, then kicked it open.  
"Germany, it's a trap! The building's about to explode! Get out!" Finland screamed the instant Germany removed the gag.  
"Where's Prussia?"  
"I don't know! I think he's in the building, but you have to get out of here!"  
Germany cut the bands and Finland tried to stand, but his wounded leg gave out so Germany picked him up and carried him outside.  
Germany set Finland in the snow and spun on his heel, running back to the building to find Prussia. He didn't even get five feet when the building erupted in flames. Gray bricks flew threw the air, the smoke billowed up from the shattered roof.  
"Prussia!" Germany watched the remaining chunks of stone fall to earth, but something caught his eye. A blue clad figure erupted from one of the windows, dragging Prussia along behind him.  
Sweden tumbled onto the ground, embers glowing on his long cloak. He quickly got to his feet and began running, Prussia close behind. A bullet hit his glasses, knocking them off his face. He instantly froze and turned to see a blurry version of Germany aiming a gun at his head.  
"Let go of mien bruder!" Germany snarled.  
"Germany ple'se, let m' expla'n!"  
"You can explain while you're choking on your own blood! Let go of him!"  
Finland began to hobble towards Sweden, but Germany pulled him back. "Finland, Sweden isn't who you think he is. He's the one that sold us out to Denmark. He never left the Union, he was playing us the whole time."  
"What? Mr. Sweden would never do something like that!" Finland complained, but his voice was etched his doubt.  
"Finland's telling de truth, ple'se listen ta me," Sweden said.  
Germany cocked back the hammer and would have killed Sweden right then, but he found Prussia standing in the way. "Prussia, move!" he demanded.  
"No! He saved my life, so you can at least listen to him!"  
Germany glared at Prussia, but Prussia held his ground. "Fine! But it had better be a darn good apology or I swear, I will kill you where you stand!"  
"Understood," Sweden said, putting his glasses back on. "I encount'red Norway in de woods, 'e an' Iceland 'ad been followin' us since we landed in France."  
"I know! I heard everything you said to Norway! You basically handed us over to them!"  
"No I didn't. I lied ta Norway. I really didn't expect 'im ta be 'ble ta follow us so easily. I tried ta lead dem to Austria while we went ta Italy. I'm still on yahr side."  
"How can you expect me to believe that? And why didn't you tell the rest of us that Norway was following us the whole time!"  
"For de same reason why yah didn't tell de oth'rs dat yah suspected I was en traitor. Th'nk about 't: if I came back an' told yah dat I 'ad been talking ta Norway, den Prussia would 'ave wanted ta attack, Finland would be terrified, and yah would 'ave blamed me. I wanted ta keep 't quiet until we reached Italy. Dat way we would 'ave been able ta prepare, an' attack Denmark an' de others in Austria."  
Germany waited until Sweden finished, his finger dancing on the trigger.  
"Please, give me en chance. I will prove it ta yah."  
"I trusted you once…" Germany cocked the hammer back and aimed it between Sweden's eyes. "I won't make that mistake again."  
"Germany please," Finland whispered, pulling on his sleeve. "He's telling the truth. Please, he's like my brother. I thought you'd understand."  
Germany looked over Prussia. If something ever happened to his brother, he'd never forgive himself. He imagined that Finland would feel the same way.  
Germany nodded, and slowly lowered the gun. "Alright. I trust you."  
His words were followed by slow, exaggerated clapping. "How touching," a young and confident voice said mockingly.  
A man, who Germany assumed must be Denmark, emerged from the snow covered woods. He was completely different then he had expected. From the way that Finland talked about him, Germany expected some ruthless thing more like a monster rather then a human. But the person that stood in front of them was a bright young man with strikingly handsome features and wild blonde hair. Two other young males joined Denmark, taking their places at his side.  
Denmark smiled pleasantly, as if greeting a group of old friends. He gave a bought of cheery laughter, then focused his eyes on Germany. "I finally get to meet the famous German brothers in person!" He said in excitement, "but you don't really match up to your reputation..."  
"We'll see about that!" Prussia lunged forward, but Sweden easily held him back.  
"Oh? You can fight?" Denmark asked curiously.  
"Of course I can fight! What do you think I've been doing all these years!"  
"Don't you live in Germany's basement?"  
"No! He lives in my attic," Prussia said pridefully. "There's a difference."  
"I will never understand Germanic countries," Denmark sighed. Prussia opened his mouth to speak, but Denmark wasn't done. "What's even more confusing, Sweden, is that you'd leave your own kin for these, er, strange, Europeans."  
"Kin?" Germany asked quietly.  
"Strange?" Prussia shouted at the same time. "Try looking in the mirror!"  
"Oh, did Sweden forget to mention that?" Denmark said, ignoring Prussia. "Yes, we, the five Nordic countries, are related. Some, more distantly then others, but Sweden here, happens to be my twin brother."  
That explained why Sweden was so devoted to Denmark, there were brothers.  
Germany looked over at Sweden, who was passively watching Denmark. He looked dejected. Germany expected anger, or even fear, but he just looked sad.  
"Why didn't you tell me he was your brother?"  
"It wasn't important," he responded flatly.  
"Some brother you are!" Prussia accused Denmark. "How could you treat him like that?"  
"That is family business, and you have no right to tell me how to take care of my brother!" Denmark was suddenly enraged. His smile instantly turned into a scowl as he jabbed a finger at Prussia.  
"Take care of him? You abused him! That is not an act of a kind brother!" Germany reproached.  
"Oh, so he did tell you about that," Denmark said quietly, as if he regretted his actions. But Germany wasn't convinced.  
"Finland told me."  
"Ah, that makes more sense. Finland always was the more talkative one. More 'touchy feelly' and all that. Sweden needed a firm hand. Still does."  
"Don't yah dare pretend ta care about me!" Sweden retorted. "Yah couldn't care less what 'appens ta me or Finland!" Sweden's voice cracked on the final line.  
Real sorrow shone in Denmark's glossy blue eyes. He looked at Sweden sympathetically, his gloved hands falling to his sides. "I– I'm really sorry about that Sweden. I– Kinda, overreacted. That one time. We both said some terrible things. Please, let's talk about this. We can fix things right now, no further bloodshed."  
Sweden's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he looked into the face of his brother. That gentle smile, those kind eyes. Denmark always was a little hot-headed, he probably didn't really mean to hurt them. Denmark looked expectant and hopeful. Maybe things could return to normal.  
"Sweden, don't listen to him!" Finland cried. "He just wants control over you!"  
"Keep quiet!" Denmark shouted.  
"Don't talk ta m' brother like dat!" Sweden said, the light in his eyes changing, his resolve strengthening. Denmark had hurt Finland, and he that could never be forgiven.  
"Your brother?" Denmark asked. He gave an airy and disbelieving chuckle. "I'm your brother!"  
Sweden hesitated. He hadn't meant to say that, it just tumbled off his lips like it was always there. "He's m're of en brother th'n yah've ev'r been," he finally said in anger, fiercely spitting the words off his tongue.  
Denmark gasped, shock and pain glistening on his sapphire eyes. "How dare you! You worthless swine! You intolerable demon! You don't even know what your saying!"  
"I know ex'ctly what 'm sayin'." Sweden replied with conviction. "I'm tir'd of walking in yahr footsteps."  
"You can't forsake me anymore than you can forsake the air you breathe! I'm part of you and you can't deny that!"  
Sweden's eyes broke contact with Denmark's and sunk to the ground. He stayed silent for a while longer, then focused on Finland. That uncompromising glare softened until it broke completely. His eyebrows raised, giving him a contented look. Finland was so stunned, that he didn't notice when Sweden turned back to Denmark and was startled as he spoke again. "Yahr pl'ce 's filled Denmark. I don't need yah." Behind him, Germany glanced over at Finland who was watching them with the begins of tears in his violet eyes.  
"B-brother?" Finland whispered, testing the word on his lips.  
"Why? Because you own that miserable whelp?" Finland cringed as Denmark directed a gloved finger towards him.  
"Denmark, that's Finny you're talking about," Iceland said softly.  
"Watch your tone, Dane," Norway added in a harsh voice, turning his crescent blue eyes towards Denmark.  
"Now you guys too?" Denmark spluttered, looking at Iceland and Norway in turn.  
"I agree with fighting Sweden, but Fin is another matter," Norway said. "If you go after him, you go alone."  
Finland looked pleased for a moment, but his tiny smile faded as he looked at Sweden.  
"I'll say whatever I want! He's nothing! He's weak! He's just a toddler trying to be a man!" Denmark howled in fury, daring them to say otherwise.  
"He's m're of en man then yah will ev'r be," Sweden said, his teeth clenched in anger.  
Denmark ripped his battle axe from the harness on his back and drove it deep into the snow. "Bring it on freak! Just you and me!"  
"You'll have to go through me first!" FInland shouted, stepping to the front, forcing his wounded leg to stop shaking.  
"Don't forget about us!" Prussia added. "Right West?"  
Germany's eyes flicked over to Sweden. Would he really fight to protect a man that he himself was determined on killing? He thought about it for a few moments before coming to a decision.  
"Ja. We're in this together."  
A thin smile sprouted on Denmark's face. "I'm afraid that you are going to be a little preoccupied."  
He snapped his fingers and a third member approached from behind the building. His long beige jacket waved in the wind along with his thick white scarf and short grey hair. His childlike eyes shone like the ocean at sunset, playful and timid. His gentle smile and disposition only intensified the aura of dread signifying his approach.  
A long, steel pipe with a water faucet on the end lay delicately on his shoulder, his large hand grasping it fervently as if it was a wilting flower. The faucet, along with his wayward smile, was proof of the man's insanity.  
The colossal man seemed juvenile; his round face and curved nose were soft, and his face showed no malice. He smiled as a child would when destroying a city of colorful blocks, but he would destroy an entire nation for his entertainment.  
"It's Russia," Finland whispered frightfully, shrinking away from the strange man.  
"It's been a while, hasn't it Finland?" the man said tenderly. "I think we can get along well, da?"  
"Stay back!" Germany demanded, holding up his hand to stop Russia's progression.  
"Oh, not very friendly. If you don't want to be my friend, then I can just kill you instead. I am happy either way."  
Germany leaned down and whispered in Finland's ear. "Finland, I need you to take Prussia and run. Do you understand?"  
"But I can help you!" Finland whispered back. "I'm not going to run while you guys are stuck fighting them."  
"No one's going to be fighting!" Germany hissed back. "There's no way we can beat all of them. We are going to distract them while you get away, we will be right behind you."  
Finland nodded, glancing over at the four men opposing them.  
"Can I kill them now?" Russia asked Denmark.  
"Wait."  
Germany looked over at Sweden, catching his eye. He then slowly moved his gaze to Denmark and the others. Sweden nodded, his grip tightening on his rod while he waited for Germany's signal.  
Germany drew his gun and Sweden leapt to his feet, brandishing his staff. Finland ran from behind Germany, grabbing Prussia and retreating behind the destroyed prison with Iceland and Norway close behind.  
There was the sound of gunfire and the screech of a reflected bullet as Russia fell to the ground, his faucet badly dented, but he was otherwise unharmed. Germany ejected the chamber, but before he could refill it, Russia's pipe smashed into the back of his head.  
While Germany was down, Russia picked up his gun and inspected it closely. Germany furiously kicked Russia's leg, but for all the good it did, he might as well have kicked a tree.  
Russia grabbed hold of Germany's shirt and effortlessly raised him to eye level.  
"You don't put much of a fight, I was hopping to have a little more fun," Russia said, genuinely disappointed.  
Germany lifted his feet and slammed them into Russia's chest, releasing his grip. Germany scrambled away and tore a knife from his belt. He held it defensively and slowly retreated toward the prison.  
He caught sight of Sweden running towards Denmark and called out his name, but he was ignored. Sweden and Denmark exchanges blows, then Sweden ran towards the forest, leading Denmark away from them.  
"Well, make up your mind; are you going to run or fight?" Russia said as he held his hands out to the side, taunting him. Germany hastily returned his attention to Russia. He may have been insane, but that didn't make him any less of an opponent.  
Germany feinted an attack, then spun and ran along the side of the building, avoiding the pieces of rubble. He didn't get very far before Russia hooked the faucet on his collar and ripped him back, bringing him crashing to the ground.  
"Not so fast." Russia ticked his finger scoldingly. "This is finally getting interesting."  
Meanwhile, Finland and Prussia were hiding behind the overturned desk inside the prison. Norway and Iceland roamed the area, searching inside every cell and behind every pile of stones.  
Prussia peeked around the desk to see Norway steadily coming closer. He grabbed a medium sized rock and was about to throw it when Finland grabbed his wrist, slowly shaking his head. Prussia removed his hand and smiled encouragingly. He chucked the stone against the wall then ran in the opposite direction.  
Norway was confused only for a moment before he chased after Prussia.  
Prussia had just made it to the door when a pair of boots slammed into his chest. Iceland stood in front of Prussia while Norway blocked his escape from the back.  
"Now what do we do with him?" Iceland asked, his frosty blue eyes fixed on Prussia.  
"Well, Denmark wants the Germans dead, and since Sweden failed, then we get to do it," Norway stated absently.  
"It's quite a shame," Iceland replied. "I just got these gloves and I would hate for them to get dirty," he said as he gently rubbed the white cloth.  
"We can buy new ones later, let's just get this over with."  
"Right."  
Norway stepped closer, and Prussia raised his fists. "Are you planning on fighting me without a weapon?" he asked.  
"I don't need one," Prussia assured him. "Now get over here and fight me like a man!"  
Norway sighed, and brushed his fingers against the cross shaped clip in his hair. "If you want a boxing competition, go find a kangaroo. I will not resort to such rudimentary tactics.  
"Well I don't see your weapon," Prussia taunted.  
"Do you really think I need one?"  
"What?"  
Norway slipped the pin out of his hair, making his ash blonde hair fall over his forehead. He brought the cross in from of his lips, and let his breath lick across the cold metal.  
The air in the room began to swirl and blow around them. The whirlwind whipped around them and almost knocked Prussia off his feet. Green smoke filled the air and a gruesome face formed behind Norway.  
The next moment, all the air was sucked out of Prussia's lungs. He instantly dropped to his knees, and his eyes rolled back. Norway watched as Prussia struggled for air, and collapsed.  
"Stop!"  
Norway looked up from his prey, and focused on Finland, who was standing behind the shattered desk with a gun aimed at Norway. He held the riffle steady, and his face hardened.  
"This is Sweden's fault. We don't want to hurt you," Iceland said.  
"Just leave him alone!"  
"Why? What is he to you?" Norway asked.  
Finland stayed quiet for a moment. "He's my friend. Does he need to be any more?"  
"You've known him less than a week, and you'd shoot your lifetime companion to save him."  
"Yes. I'm tired of seeing everyone close to me die! I won't let you hurt anyone else!"  
The wind ceased, and Norway lowered his cross. "Good for you."  
"Nor–Norway?" Iceland whispered in confusion.  
"You truly are strong Finland. Stronger than Denmark can ever hope to be."  
"I don't understand," Finland admitted. He kept the rifle raised, but relaxed his trigger finger.  
"The strongest warrior is the one that can make the hardest decisions. You made the right choice. I am your enemy, so you chose to save your friend. Now it's my turn to choose. Go on Finland. Go help Sweden, we'll take care of your friend."  
Finland glanced at Prussia, and shifted towards the door, then stopped. "How can I trust you?"  
"You've known me all your life, so tell me: have I ever gone back on my word?"  
Finland slung the gun over his back and ran out the door into the snow. Iceland watched him go, and turned back to Norway.  
"Why? Why'd you do that? You're going against Denmark's orders."  
"There are more important things then following orders. You'll understand someday. Now lets go. We don't want to be there when he wakes up."  
Norway stepped over the rubble and replaced the golden cross in his hair. Iceland lagged behind, his eyes frozen on Prussia. Norway was right, he didn't understand. How could someone just break the rules? Why did he get to decide what to do? When was it right to disobey?  
Iceland tore his eyes away from the unconscious German, and followed Norway. He stepped out into the cold, his breath visible in the frozen air as he walked into the unknown.


	16. Chapter 15: Sacrifice

Sparks flew into the frozen air. Sweden tore through the woods with Denmark right behind him. He spun around the tree to avoid the deadly edge of Denmark's weapon: a double bladed ax with a spearhead in between the two halves. One cut and it would be game over. This was a battle that Sweden couldn't win with even the slightest injury.  
Sweden ducked as the battle ax swung above his head and drove into a large tree. He brought his staff down on the handle of the ax to release Denmark's grip but he moved his hands down the pole and kicked at Sweden, knocking him backwards.  
Denmark ripped the ax out of the tree and expertly twirled it from one hand to the other, a grin on his face. "Ready to give up yet?" he asked pridefully.  
"Never."  
"The only other option is for me to kill you, and I would really hate to be forced to kill my own brother." Denmark held a hand to his heart in a sign of sincere friendship.  
"There's no way dat I'm just goin' ta roll over an' let yah take control. I fell for yahr silvery words once, an' I assure yah dat it will never 'appen 'gain." Sweden felt as if an invisible knot binding him and Denmark had come undone, leaving him utterly alone.  
"I'm sorry you feel that way." Denmark lazily removed his small brown hat and threw it aside. "To the death?"  
"Ta the death."  
They both charged forward with determination, perfected sequences of attacking and retreating. They searched for any weaknesses or glitches in movement and used them to their advantage. Denmark noticed the lag in Sweden's left shoulder and attacked from that side, forcing him back. In response to Denmark's tactic, Sweden would momentarily hook the end of Denmark's ax and throw off its trajectory.  
Sweden changed tactics again; he feinted to one side, attacked the other, then flipped around behind. Denmark caught on before he finished the rotation. He jumped to the side and drove the end of his ax into Sweden's thigh, drawing first blood.  
Sweden crumpled to the ground and barely had enough time to roll away when the ax sliced downward, sinking deep into the snow. Before he could pull up his axe, Sweden slammed his staff against his face, then jabbed him in the stomach.  
Denmark stubbled back, and laughed as the smile on his injured face grew wider.  
"You can't win," Denmark declared. "Have you forgotten the Stockholm Bloodbath?"  
Sweden gritted his teeth and glared back at Denmark. "Don't yah dare talk about dat."  
"Oh, so you do remember? I would consider you heartless if you didn't."  
"Shut up," Sweden demanded.  
"I can still recall how your bishop begged for mercy. How terrified he was. He was still weeping when the ax fell." Denmark's hand glided down the polished, black metal of his weapon as if it had been the executioners blade.  
"Håll käften!" Sweden screamed, charging forward. He aimed for Denmark's face but his staff clashed against his blade.  
Their weapons stayed locked and Denmark's eyebrows lowered and his lips raised. "The bishop wasn't the only one," Denmark continued. "Merchants, nobles, mayors, councilmen, all those who opposed us. I can still hear their screams," he said in ecstasy. Sweden ripped his staff back, but not before Denmark sliced his arm, adding to the blood already staining his blade.  
"I'll make yah pay for dat!" Sweden yelled, ignoring the torn muscles in his arm. Denmark could barely block his attacks, and Sweden's staff banged harshly against his arm, almost making him drop his axe. Denmark was forced back, and it took all of his strength to keep Sweden at arms length.  
"Three days! Three whole days I was forced ta listen ta their cries! Yah shall pay for every drop of innoc'nt blood yah spilled!"  
Denmark finally got behind Sweden and knocked him into a tree. "And who's going to make me? I guarantee that it won't be you. Because you won't be alive long enough!" Denmark drove his ax at Sweden, and narrowly missed as he bolted to the side.  
Denmark pulled his ax out of the tree, sending splinters flying onto the ground. He turned around to face Sweden, sliding his hands apart on the handle. He waited until Sweden charged again in anger.  
Denmark sunk low to the ground and kicked Sweden's injured thigh, sending him tumbling to the ground.  
Sweden looked up to see Denmark swinging the ax over his head in a wide arc, his hands slid down the handle as it drew closer to Sweden's face. He twisted and held his staff up in defense. The power of Denmark's strike forced his elbows to the ground. He pushed up with all his strength, but Denmark leaned forward and forced the blade downward.  
Denmark smiled as the refined edge of his blade began to cut through Sweden's staff.  
In a desperate attempt, Sweden dropped one side, throwing Denmark off balance. He kicked the ax and scrambled away weaponless.  
Denmark got to his feet as Sweden began to run away, limping severely as he retreated down the slope. He chased after Sweden deeper into the woods, following the trail of blood and quickly catching up to him.  
Sweden dashed around a tree, grabbing a thick branch and pulling it behind him. When Denmark appeared he released the branch. It swung back and smashed into Denmark, knocking him to the ground.  
While Denmark was down, Sweden took off running again, shoving away the dead branches and stumbling over hidden tree roots. Sweden froze when Denmark suddenly appeared in front of him. He sunk his feet into the snow and skidded to a stop, but he didn't have a chance to move before the ax sliced across his chest, staining the snow a deep crimson.  
Sweden clutched his chest, as he stumbled back. Blood seeped from the gash as Sweden stumbled down the hill. His throat clenched and his knees buckled, bringing him to the ground. He tilted his head back in an attempt to breathe, tilting to the side as he began to feel lightheaded.  
"Still running away? I don't remember you being this cowardly."  
Sweden fell forward and began to hack up blood, his arms shaking violently. "M' intent'ns were not ta get away, but ta lead yah away from de others. Now dey 'ave en chance ta escape." Sweden paused as his body convulsed, more blood rising to his throat. "You were so determin'd...ta get ta me, dat yah...forgot 'bout yahr real prey... Dey're prob'bly 'alf way...ta Rome by now."  
Denmark gritted his teeth and hit Sweden on the side of the head with the blunt end of his ax, staining the metal surface red.  
"You filthy traitor!" Denmark snarled. He grabbed Sweden's shirt and pulled him to his knees.  
"Yah are de one who committed...de first betrayal," Sweden rasped. "And now m' loyalties lie...with dose Germans, and m' real...brother!"  
Denmark slammed the bloody handle down on Sweden's throat. Sweden grasped at the ax, pulling it upwards to relieve the pressure, but Denmark forced it back down.  
"Don't you dare say that! I am doing this for you! We could have ruled Europe, we could have had all the power in the world! Then you had to ruin everything, and run of with those wretched Germans. Why couldn't you just go along with it? I could have made you powerful! A king! A ruler of Europe!"  
Sweden used the last of his strength to raise the handle and fiercely wheezed: "I…forgive you…" There was a soft thud as Sweden's head fell back onto the snow, his hands slipping off the thick handle.  
Tears streamed down Denmark's cheeks, Sweden's words gouging deep into his heart. He shakily began to take the axe handle from Sweden's throat, salty tears dripping onto his blood covered hands.  
A gun sounded and a bullet skimmed Denmark's arm, ripping into his sleeve and slicing deep into his skin.  
Denmark grasped his arm and turned to see Finland glaring down the sight of a rifle. Finland cocked the gun and Denmark brought the axe in front of his face an instant before the gun sounded again, a bullet denting the surface. He ran, dodging through the trees to avoid the bullets flying through the air.  
What have I done? Denmark asked himself. It wasn't supposed to happen this way! Sweden and I were going to rule Europe, if only he hadn't run off with those Germans, then everything would have been fine. Why can't he realize that I was trying to help him? It's too late now…  
Denmark tripped and fell onto the soft snow. He pushed himself up and hunched against a nearby tree. The tears began flowing again as he became fully aware of what had happened.  
It's too late. He's dead… I killed my own brother.

Finland tossed the gun to the ground as the clip ran dry and ran to Sweden. He lifted Sweden's head from the frozen ground and held it in his lap. Sweden's eyes were rolled back under his eye lids. His arms quivered slightly as he gasped for air.  
"Sweden, I'm here. Sweden can you hear me?"  
Sweden's eyes barely opened as he heard Finland's voice, then drifted closed.  
"Sweden please! You have to wake up! I'm not going to let you…" The word caught in Finland's throat. No, not like this. It can't end this way. Tears formed in the corners of Finland's eyes. He refused to let them fall, furiously blinking them away. "Sweden, I'm here. I'm not going to leave you."  
Sweden was unresponsive, his head shook faintly as he struggled to breathe, the air catching in his throat.  
Finland's hand moved to the gash on Sweden's chest. Blood still flowed from the torn muscles and pooled on the ground around them. As he placed his hand over the wound he could feel Sweden's exposed ribs and quickly withdrew.  
Finland couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed freely over his eyelids and down his cheeks. Sweden was dying in his arms, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  
Finland's eyes opened as something brushed against his cheek.  
"Don't cry... Finland," Sweden whispered softly, his serene, blue eyes gazing up at him. Finland shuddered as he tried to stop the tears, he bit his quivering lip as he brushed Sweden's hair off his forehead and grabbed hold his shaking hand.  
"I…never did teach yah…'ow ta ride en horse…did I?"  
"No, not yet," Finland sniffled. "But you can teach me this summer."  
The corners of Sweden's lips rose, his eyebrows curved gently, his eyes softened, that forgotten smile returning. For a moment, he looked completely happy, just like old times.  
"Thank yah," Sweden murmured sincerely. "For ev'rythin'..."  
Finland's heart was filled with happiness and peace. After all that time, he finally had the privilege of seeing a glimpse of pure joy reflected in Sweden's eyes.  
Then, Sweden's shining eyes closed. His mouth drooped. The moment of bliss slowly fading as the color drained from Sweden's face.  
"Sweden?" Finland asked gently, as if waking someone from sleep. The tears ceased as Finland's body went numb. He lifted Sweden to his chest and buried his face in the sandy hair.  
Finland's sorrow was dampened as he was filled with appreciation for all the times that Sweden was there protecting him, and guiding him. Admiration filled his heart as he remembered Sweden's kindness and strength. Even though Sweden was gone, Finland knew that he would be there for him, always. Just like the stars.  
Finland gave a genuine smile as he rocked gently, his face nestled securely in Sweden's hair.  
"Goodnight, Sweden."


	17. Chapter 16: Crimson Snow

Prussia ran through the woods, clutching his side, the reopened wound bleeding slightly.  
"Where in the world did that kid run off to?" Prussia said to himself. He paused as he saw a glimpse of color between the trees. Finland was holding Sweden in his arms, kneeling on crimson snow.  
Prussia forgot about the stitch in his side as he ran full speed towards the Nords. When he skidded to a halt and kneeled next to them on the snow, he could hear Finland's sobs as he pressed his face deeper into Sweden's hair.  
Reaching forward, Prussia laid his fingers on the side of Sweden's neck.  
"Finland, hand him to me."  
"Why?" Finland sobbed. "He's already gone."  
"He's not dead, he's in Shock! Now hand him over!"  
"What?" Finland asked, letting Prussia grab Sweden and lay him on the ground.  
Prussia locked his elbows shoved downward on Sweden's chest. He then held two fingers over Sweden's mouth to feel for air before returning his hands to his chest.  
"His heart got damaged, and it sent him into a state of Cardiogenic Shock. He's still alive, but only just." Prussia paused again to check the air flow. "How long has he been unconscious?"  
"Not very long, just a few minutes."  
Prussia mumbled something under his breath.  
"What did you say?"  
"Nothing," Prussia lied. "Everything's fine." His movements became frantic as he repeated the process over again. "Darn it! Wake up. I am not letting you die, do you hear me? Come on, wake up!" Prussia demanded, slamming his fist down on Sweden's chest.  
When Prussia held his hand over Sweden's mouth he paused as a light wisp of air touched the tips of his fingers. He pressed his ear to Sweden's blood soaked chest and heard the faint beating of his heart.  
"Finally!" Prussia shouted in excitement. "Now we're getting somewhere!" He gently slapped the side of Sweden's face and said his name loudly. "Hey, listen; I know that you're tired, but I need you to wake up. Sweden. Wake up!" Prussia angrily smacked his face, leaving a red mark on his cheek.  
Sweden groaned and glared at Prussia through narrowed eyes.  
"Now, don't look at me like that. I'm the one that just saved your life!" Prussia said pridefully. "Well, technically I brought you back from the dead, which just proves how totally awesome I am." Prussia stopped as Sweden began coughing weakly, his eyes drifting closed and his shallow breathing becoming rapid.  
"Prussia, what's happening?" Finland asked, laying his hand on Sweden's clammy skin.  
"I don't know! I don't know what to do! I only know emergency first aid, I can't help him any! Germany's the one that knows this kind of stuff!" Prussia dug his hands into his white hair as his eyes franticly whisked over Sweden, who was unconscious again.  
"Would Germany know what to do?" Finland asked.  
"Probably, but he's still fighting…" Prussia stopped as he saw the tears returning to Finland's eyes, his delicate face filled with sorrow. Prussia got to his feet and began running through the woods.  
"Prussia, where are you going?" Finland called after him.  
"To find Germany!"  
Prussia's black boots sunk deep into the snow as he darted between the trees towards the prison: The arms of the trees ripping at his clothes, snatching away his knapsack, grabbing his hair, doing anything they could to slow him down. Their sneering faces laughed at his futile attempt, their voices chased him as he swept past.  
Prussia burst through into the filtered sunlight. Leaving the woods behind him. He ran, searching for any sign of Germany. He turned around a corner and the stone shattered as a fist drove into the wall a few inches from his face. Prussia froze as Russia's lavender eyes fell upon him.  
"Oh, someone new," Russia's feathery voice mused, a fine smile appearing on his pale lips. Prussia could hear his own terrified heartbeat as he stared into those merciless eyes.  
Prussia broke from his trance as Germany's clenched fist slammed into Russia's grey hair, knocking him forward into the wall.  
"Prussia, what are you doing? Get out of here!" Germany said as he hauled his brother away from the beastly Russian.  
"West, it's Sweden. He's…" Prussia stopped as he shoved Germany to the side and leapt back to avoid Russia's crushing fist. Germany got to his feet and swung his foot at Russia, but he simply stepped back, and with an open hand he tapped Germany on the back and sent him spinning to the ground.  
"This had better be important," Germany said, getting to his feet and holding his fists defensively in front of his snow covered face as he backed away from Russia.  
"It! Is!" Prussia said, throwing two successive blows at Russia's face but hitting only his forearms. "Sweden needs help." He ducked as Russia thrust his arm forward.  
"I'm a little busy," Germany said as Russia turned back towards him. "Sweden needs to handle Denmark on his own, I've got bigger problems!"  
Prussia attacked from the back before Russia got to Germany, and then while Russia was distracted, Germany kicked his feet out from under him. Russia rolled to the side before Prussia could hit him again. Russia stood and faced the Germans, waiting for them to move first.  
"Sweden's wounded. He went into shock after Denmark sliced his chest open," Prussia whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.  
"Can't we finish this first?"  
"He's dying! We don't have time! Finland is with him now, but it might already be too late."  
"Then what do I do about him?" Germany asked, motioning towards Russia.  
"Get out of here, I will take care of this freak."  
"I am not going to leaving you to fight him alone, he's too strong for you," Germany protested.  
"Sweden is in the Southeast side of the woods, just follow my tracks," Prussia said, ignoring his brother.  
"Prussia listen to me! You can't handle him by yourself!"  
They were drawn back to the battle as Russia stepped forward. "I hope you two aren't considering the running away. This was just starting to be getting interesting."  
Germany and Prussia stepped backwards in unison, trying to keep the distance between them and Russia. "I'll distract him, you go help Sweden," Prussia whispered, his eyes trained on Russia. Before Germany could answer, Prussia ran forward, his arm cocked back and prepared to attack. "Go!" he yelled.  
"Scheiße," Germany cursed under his breath. Nevertheless, he turned and ran towards the woods. He bit his lip in frustration. He had never retreated from a battle before, it just seemed cowardly. Especially since he had to leave his injured brother to finish the fight.  
Russia saw him leaving, so he backhanded Prussia and pursued his prey. His long coat and scarf flapped in the wind while he expertly ran through the snow, his feet lifting high over the powder in long strides as he bent forward, tucking his knees to his chest with every step.  
Germany propelled his legs faster, but he stumbled as he ripped his feet out of the thick snow.  
Russia quickly caught up to Germany and stretched his hand forward to seize him. An instant before his hand closed, he was jerked back and collapsed onto the snow.  
Prussia was sitting on the ground and holding the end of Russia's scarf, his feet planted deep in the snow. "Your fight is with me!"

Germany forced his burning legs to pull him up the slope. Prussia's tracks were more like skid marks, and it was difficult to follow them up the hill. He eventually reached the top of the slope and was able to continue running until he found Finland and Sweden in a dense group of trees.  
Finland looked up and watched Germany run forward. He had removed his jacket and pressed it against the wound in Sweden's chest, but the light material was already stained red.  
"He won't wake up," Finland said quietly.  
Germany placed his fingers against Sweden's jugular and felt a gentle, irregular pulse. "Raise his head," he told Finland.  
Germany checked under Finland's jacket at the wound. The skin was peeled apart, leaving bare muscle on his chest, but the cut was clean. "He'll be alright." Germany used his belt as a tourniquet and put it around the top of Sweden's thigh to stop the stab wound in his leg from bleeding while Finland positioned himself behind Sweden's back to lift him up.  
Germany pulled a long piece of fishing line and a sewing needle from his pocket. He gently pulled the jacket off Sweden's chest and began to stitch the wound closed. His hands shook as Sweden groaned miserably.  
"Don't you have anything to dampen the pain?" Finland asked.  
"No. He'll just have to deal with it. Bind up the wound on his arm."  
Every time Germany readjusted his hand, Sweden's teeth clenched tighter and his pale hands dug into the snow. Germany could feel Sweden's erratic heart beat getting weaker every second.  
"Finland, I realize how hard this is for you right now, but I want you to understand what is going on," Germany said, pausing in his work. "On the battlefield, with wounds like these, we usually leave them be."  
Germany was interrupted when an explosion sounded in the distance, making the dead branches quiver from the shockwave.  
"Prussia!" Germany yelled, abandoning his operation. He got to his feet and looked above the trees to where the smoke was already rising. He couldn't help but criticize himself for letting his brother fight Russia alone. He had the urge to return, to help Prussia.  
"Germany, you can go help Prussia. I can finish this," Finland said, shakily picking up the needle, trying to ignore the sight of the bones under the torn muscle.  
Germany returned his gaze to Finland's innocent eyes. "No. Prussia can handle himself." He kneeled down next to Sweden and continued to stitch up his wound. It was a long process; Finland had to pinch the skin together as Germany ran the needle through the two halves.  
Germany paused as Sweden stopped groaning. "Finland, make sure he's still breathing, I can handle the rest."  
"He's still breathing, but should I wake him up?"  
"No, he just passed out from the pain." When Germany got to the last stitch, he pulled it tight and went back through the skin and knotted the end.  
"Alright, I think we're done," Germany stated, wiping the sweat off his brow.  
"Uh, Germany?" Finland said, fear etched into his voice. When Germany looked at him, he raised a finger, pointing behind him.  
Germany turned to see Russia walking up the hill. His head was lowered, as if he was wounded, and his arms hung at his sides. Germany stood and grabbed Finland's discarded rifle. It was out of ammo, so he raised it like a bat.  
Russia moved steadily closer with a shuffling gait, every step making Germany's heart beat faster. Germany's sweaty hands slid farther up the stock of the gun, his feet shifted in the bloody snow.  
Just when Russia came within throwing distance, he tipped up his hat and flashed a pearly white smile. It took Germany a moment to realize that the smile belonged to Prussia.  
"What?" Germany asked in confusion, lowering his gun.  
"Oi West, you look like a startled cat!" Prussia jeered, giving his traditional laugh.  
"Is Russia, dead?" Finland asked from behind Germany.  
"That loser's still alive," Prussia said regretfully. "But he's not going to be coming back anytime soon. I buried him under two tons of rock!"  
Germany strode forward and grabbed hold of the white scarf around Prussia's neck. "Then where did you get these clothes huh?"  
"Hey, easy does it! He took off his jacket and hat during the battle and his scarf came off when I blew up the prison wall."  
"You did what?"  
"Hey, it was falling apart anyway."  
"How did you do that?" Germany asked. "I had the only bomb in my duffle bag."  
"Yeah, my time bomb. When you guys left me with the cart, I had the opportunity to retrieve what was rightfully mine. So I did. End of story."  
"You irresponsible pyromanic!" Germany ripped Russia's scarf off his brothers neck and cracked it like a whip on his shoulder.  
"Ouch! What was that for?"  
"That's for being such a Dummkopf! This is for almost giving me a heart attack!" Germany cracked the scarf against Prussia back, sending him scrambling across the snow.  
"Okay, fine you got your payback. Now put the scarf down and let's–– Ow! West! That freaking hurts! Knock it off!"  
"Oh, so you're American now? Get back here you incompetent pest!"  
Finland watched with a tiny smile as Germany proceeded to chase Prussia around the clearing while Prussia screamed at him in German. Finland looked down as he heard Sweden move his head as he watched the German brothers though half closed eyes.  
"Sweden, are you okay?" Finland asked.  
Sweden didn't answer right away. He looked deep in thought as his eyes swept the area like he always did when he awoke.  
"Ja. I guess it is..." His voice was mellow and smooth, and gave no indication of its former gruff overtone.  
Then Sweden's teal eyes came to a stop on Finland's face. His eyes were full of life, his thin eyebrows raised playfully, his lips drawn up into a passionate smile.  
"I will never allow yah ta go through dat again. I promise."


	18. Chapter 17: Promise

An exquisite mansion stood on the side of a gentle, rolling hill, surrounded by bending trees and flowing gardens. The sun reflected off the elegant windows and sturdy brick walls. The peaks of the grey roof towered over the trees and cast a long shadow on the west side. Not a single blemish marked the manor, the thick shingles were straight, the window frames showed no sign of weathering and the cement steps were flawless.  
The grounds were well tended; the grass was a blanket of green, the flowerbeds were free from any kind of weeds, and the large fountain was polished to a stunning white.  
The estate would have been picture perfect if not for the dozens of soldiers marching across the lawn carrying random furniture and other expensive items.  
"What's going on here?" Denmark shouted at the passing men, gawking as they emptied his home of all his precious belongings. "Hey! That's my throne!" he screamed, running over the lawn and leaping over the flowerbed surrounding the stone path. He grabbed hold of his elaborate wooden chair etched with gold and snatched it from the large man's grasp, slamming it to the ground.  
"No! Mine," Denmark scolded, jabbing a finger in the man's face. As he was glaring at the rugged man, another worker passed, hefting a large floor lamp over his shoulder. Denmark ran forward and grabbed the end of the lamp, attempting to pry it from the man's grasp. "It's mine! Give it back! Who gave you the right to take my stuff?"  
"I did."  
Denmark dropped the lamp and turned towards the authoritative voice. A tall man in old style military clothes stood across the lawn, leaning on a wooden crutch. Sweden stood proudly despite his injuries and Finland stood beside him, his head held high in defiance. Denmark instinctively brought his hand to his arm where Finland shot him the last time they met. He quickly lowered his hand and directed it at Sweden's face.  
"You! I killed you!"  
"Ja? Well, finish de job next time."  
"This is my house. My things. You can't just take them away from me!" Denmark's chest heaved as he spat furiously at Sweden. His hands clenched and he bore his teeth, his face turning red with anger.  
"Actually I kan. The joint king 'as been dethron'd. The Nordics 're now independ'nt."  
Denmark's jaw dropped in unbelief. His shoulders slumped as his hands fell to his sides. "But… But what are you doing with my house?" he screamed franticly.  
Sweden held his hand out to Finland and he placed a rolled map into his palm. Sweden slowly unrolled the map and faced it towards Denmark. "Dis is yahr new territory," he said, indicating a small collections of islands at the outlet of the Baltic Sea. It was barely a tenth of the area that used to be under Denmark's control.  
"You can't do that! That is my land!" Denmark screamed, stomping his foot on the newly raised spring grass.  
"Uh, no," Sweden said abruptly. "Dis is m' land now. An' Finland 'as de area on de other side of de sea."  
Denmark stepped forward and seized Sweden jacket. "You can't do this. I'm your brother!" he whispered harshly. "Have you forgotten, all that I have done for you? All the years I stood by your side?"  
"Disowned brother," Sweden clarified. "Now unhand me."  
Denmark held his eyes for a moment longer, then forced his fingers to release Sweden's shirt.  
"Soldiers!" Sweden called, bringing two armed men to his side. "Show Mr. Denmark ta 'is new home."  
They strode forward and roughly seized Denmark's arms above the elbow. "This isn't over!" Denmark yelled over his shoulder as the men dragged him away. "Do you hear me traitor? This war is just getting started!"  
Sweden watched in satisfaction as the soldiers dragged Denmark away, a light smile on his lips. His smile slowly faded as he clutched his chest, his heart and lungs burning.  
"Sweden, are you okay?" Finland gasped in surprise as Sweden coughed violently and grabbed his shoulder to keep from falling. "Guards, help!" Finland called.  
Three uniformed men ran over and helped Finland lower Sweden to the ground. One cradled his head as he continued coughing and placed his fingers on the side of his neck.  
"He's just as bad as he was three weeks ago," another commented.  
"It must be from the stress of seeing Mr. Denmark again," the one holding his head replied. "We should probably get him back inside."  
"I'll get a stretcher," the last one said as he stood to leave. Sweden firmly grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving.  
"No, I wish ta stay outside. 'elp me up," Sweden ordered.  
"But sir! Your wounds–"  
"I'm fine," Sweden insisted.  
"Du är så envis," the solider complained under his breath. The three helped Sweden to his feet and led him over to a stone bench near the fountain.  
"Sweden, you're pushing yourself too hard, you need to take a break for a while," Finland said, joining him on the bench.  
Sweden struggled to slow his breathing as he leaned back. "I kan't rest, there's still work ta be done."  
"Will you stop working for once? Just until you're healed. Besides, you don't have to do everything alone, I'm still here," Finland said.  
Sweden looked over and ruffled Finland's hair. "Ja, I kan always trust m' insist'nt little brother."  
"I'm only being insistent because you're so stubborn," Finland replied in false anger, playfully knocking Sweden's hand away and trying to hide his smile.  
Sweden quickly put Finland in a headlock and rubbed his head, messing up his smooth golden hair. Finland grabbed Sweden's arm and squirmed out of his grip then slid over to the other side of the bench. "I'm still mad at you," he teased, unable to hide his smile.  
"I doubt dat," Sweden chuckled, scooting closer.  
"No, I'm not going to forgive you." Finland said as he turned away.  
Sweden stopped his progression and looked at the sky. "What if… I promised ta take yah on en horse ride later today?"  
Finland instantly turned around. "Really?"  
"On m' honor," Sweden pledged, holding a hand over his heart. "But first, I need ta finish cleaning out de house." Sweden stood to leave but Finland quickly pulled him back down.  
"Oh no you don't. You are going to stay right here while I finish cleaning out the house."  
Sweden chuckled as Finland got off the bench and continued towards the manor. He laid down on the bench and watched the clouds float lazily across the sky, letting his eyes drift closed as sleep overtook him.

The golden sun rested above the mountains, slowly descending below the trees and making way for the silver moon rising in the east. It's soft glow illuminated the green, spring meadow. Finland sat on a pure black Friesian, and looked down at Sweden who stood on the distant ground.  
"I'm not so sure about this," Finland said, nervously grabbing the reins.  
"Dumheter. We finished de work early so I could teach yah. Don't worry, we'll start out slow."  
"Couldn't I at least use a saddle?"  
"No. Dat would make it too easy. Now, 'old on ta de hair right 'ere, and squeeze with yahr thighs. Do yah remember de rules?"  
"Yes: Don't jerk on the bit, steady movements, and pull the head around for emergency stop."  
"Yah forgot one," Sweden said, his hands still on the reins.  
"I did? What is it?"  
"'ave fun."  
Finland smiled and he felt his shoulders relax as he looked at Sweden's encouraging face.  
"Utmärkt." Sweden released the reins and instructed Finland as he led the horse in a circle around him.  
Finland eventually found it easier to keep his back straight as felt the muscles in the horses legs. His smile grew bigger as the horse moved at the slightest twitch of his wrists. It got to the point where, he didn't have to think about turning the reins or giving pressure on the thick sides of the horses chest.  
"Oi Sweden, Finland!" a very obnoxious, and very familiar, voice shouted from across the meadow.  
Sweden turned to see Germany and Prussia, with Gilbird resting on his head. They walked across the thick grass and came to a stop next to Sweden. "Did you losers miss me? What I am saying of course you did. Everyone loves me!" Prussia said, slapping Finland on the leg.  
"Hey, I always wanted to ask you," Germany said, coming up to Sweden.  
"Hmm?"  
"So, your scars. Are they from Denmark?"  
"Only one. The last one."

Germany stayed silent for a few moments, listening to Prussia's conversation with Finland. "Sweden, is everything okay?" Germany asked quietly.  
"Ja. We 'ave Denmark contain'd an' separat'd from Iceland an' Norway. We're now working on rebuilding de governments of de surrounding countries."  
"I meant you personally."  
Sweden hesitated before answering. "Ja," he finally answered. "Better then I've ever been."  
"Sweden," Germany said, drawing his attention. "You can tell me the truth. I want to know," he said.  
Sweden gave a small smile. "That was de truth. For once in m' life, I finally feel free. I kan spend time takin' care of Finland now, trainin' him for when I'm not 'round. Dis is a chance for en new start. For Denmark too. I'm sure dat we kan become friends 'gain. After all, we are family."  
Germany gave a light chuckle. "You really are strange."  
"Hey Sasquatch! it's my turn!" Prussia interrupted, pointing to the Friesian.  
"Sure. Germany, can yah get de other horse over there?" Sweden asked, pointing to another black horse standing nearby.  
"You have quite exotic pets," Germany commented, bringing the other horse closer.  
"Dey were en gift. From Denmark." Sweden gave a cocky smile as he took the horse from Germany. "Yah first," he said, setting his crutch on the ground and couching down to offer Germany a leg up.  
"No thanks, I'm fine on two feet."  
"I insist."  
"Come on West, this is going to be fun!" Prussia said.  
Germany reluctantly placed his boot on Sweden's hands and he hoisted him onto the broad back. The horse nickered and tossed its head in playful delight.  
"Prussia, kan yah 'elp me up?" Sweden asked, standing next to the horse Finland was on.  
Prussia huffed and blew the white hair out of his eyes. "I guess I could be nice enough to help out a handicapped old man, but just this once," Prussia said sarcastically.  
"Wait, now how do I get on?" Prussia asked after getting Sweden on the horse behind Finland.  
"'ow should I know? I'm just en 'andicapped old man."  
Prussia scowled as the others laughed at his embarrassment. He rolled up his sleeves and positioned himself next to the horse. Germany extended a hand but Prussia batted it away. He crouched down then leaped upwards, he grabbled at the smooth black coat and promptly fell back to the ground.  
The horse let out a satisfied nicker as it stomped its hooves.  
"Laugh while you can," Prussia muttered, preparing for another attempt. This time when Prussia jumped, Germany grabbed his belt and slung him over the rump like a saddle bag.  
"HYAH!" Germany shouted, kicking the horse gently on the sides. Sweden loosened the reins, letting his horse charge after him.  
"West! Slow down! I'm not on yet!" Prussia slowly started to slide off the back end towards the glossy black hooves striking the thick grass. Germany grabbed his belt again and pulled him into a sitting position on the horse, only he was facing backwards.  
Prussia bounced harshly on the horse's spine and pressed his hands firmly on the slick coat, but was still slipping off. "Uh, West, a little help here? West!"  
Ridding alongside them, Sweden grabbed Prussia's shoulder, turning him the proper direction. Prussia warped his arms around Germany's waist and buried his head against his back. After a few moments, Prussia slowly opened his eyes and raised his head, looking past the horse's mane to see the scene stretched out before him.  
The open field brushed past them as the jet-black horses ran towards the distant mountains. The rays of the setting sun blazed across the landscape, bathing it in a rich, comforting glow.  
Finland smiled as Prussia gradually uncoiled his arms and held them straight out like he was an eagle soaring in the wind. His eyes closed as his head tilted back, letting the sun wash across his face. "Like a little bird," he mouthed. He stretched his hands wide, allowing the wind to filter through his fingers and pull at his clothes.  
Finland followed his example and closed his eyes as well. The horse glided beneath him like the ocean waves, his fingers wove through the thick, curly mane. Sweden's arms braced him, one hand resting on Finland's leg, the other wrapping around him and holding the leather reins. Finland sunk closer to Sweden's chest, hearing the consistent beat of his heart and his rhythmic breathing.  
Finland looked over Sweden's shoulder to the darkened sky behind them. A single star glistened in the inky expanse, alone in a vast sky. Then Finland remembered what Sweden taught him; that the stars are never truly alone. Thousands of other stars lay hidden, secretly watching the one that stood apart from the rest.  
I was wrong, Finland thought. The stars are far from meaningless; they are a symbol of hope in a turbulent world, always there to guide us through the darkness of life. Always there. Always watching.  
Finland brought his gaze forward, knowing that the stars watched as he headed over the fields of limitless opportunity, rushing forward in determination; remembering the hardships of the past, and charging towards the future with an open heart and mind.

The End

* * *

**Thanks for reading! If you stuck with this all the way to the end I am very surprised. And extremely grateful. I hope I brought a smile to your face or a tear to your eye. Or both. ;) If you liked this story, feel free to check out some of my other ones. If you didn't like it, tell me why. I will always appreciate constructive criticism. Have some other ideas for me? Then send me a message! Seriously, let me know what you think of it. Thanks again!**

**Wildfire707, over and out!**


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